Shattered From The Summer
by Tear-Storming Sea
Summary: Ashley's had a nightmarish summer after prom and she not is not telling anyone about anything. If Spencer doesn't forgive long enough to break through her walls then Ashley might break herself.
1. I Don't Have The Answers

**Hello. This is my first story but feel free to bash my writing all you want. I promise to survive horrible meaness from anonymous internet users. Obviously it's Spashley. If you have any suggestions, (even if you just think that Ashley should love hot dogs) please tell. I'll see if I can work it in. Everything is the same until the summer before season 3.**

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Ashley's PoV

The prom is an overrated, pointless, stupid, horrifying, and tacky way for your high school to make a profit off of you. I have been saying this since freshman year, maybe even eighth grade. Thus, I am happy (or sad?) to report that I was absolutely correct.

My junior prom epically sucked.

So, if I was so certain that prom was a waste of time and money why did I go in the first place? Well, enter Spencer Carlin, love of my life, and her heart-melting pout.

Okay, in all honesty she did not pull the pout on me this time, not to say that she doesn't, and she was willing to skip prom for me. However, her obvious disappointment was deadly. And my favorite visual (unless I'm horny) is Spencer's smile. Suffice it to say that even as I rejected Spencer's invitation to prom, I had my own invitation to "the stupid prom" waiting in her locker.

What?

I have a reputation to maintain, people!

Anyways, prom started out okay. Really cheesy, especially the photo shoot, but it got better after a quickie in the bathroom. Then, it was just weird when Madison apologized for being a bitch (it can't last). I think I should've taken that as a sign of the impending apocalypse.

Next thing I knew Aiden, my best friend, my rock and certainty, my ex, my half-sister's _boyfriend _started spewing crap about how much he loved me and how I had to feel the same way.

While I was reeling Spencer came over found out what was going on. Soon there was a full-blown shouting match, Spencer: hurt, jealous, and angry, Aiden: hopeful and desperate, Kyla: trying to figure out exactly what was happening, and me: struggling to process Aiden's confession and all the shit that came with it as every person I cared about in my life was demanding something from me.

Here's a sample of the many questions running through my bewildered brain:

What the hell? He's telling me this now? Should I cut him out of my life? Can I convince Spencer that it's okay if I don't cut him out? Can I get through life without his support? Is this a joke? Am I having hearing problems? How do I not break his heart? Should I just break his heart anyways? Will Spencer understand? Why is she looking at me like that? She should know where I stand, right? Is Kyla going to hate me? Should I be angry at him for doing this to my sister? Where is Kyla anyways? What did Spencer just say? Should Spencer be able to dictate who my friends are? Why is Aiden doing this? What do they all want? Why can't they just give me some breathing space? What the hell am I supposed to do? Can I do anything without hurting somebody?

As you can see my brain wasn't the best environment for wise words and smart decisions at that moment. I needed to sort everything through before people started interrogating me.

Fat chance.

The most important people in my life all wanted answers and all I could think of were questions.

I also needed alone time. My head was pounding and I needed solitude to help me wade through this mess.

I know I'm not good at expressing my feelings. Often I come off too harsh or not clearly enough. I guess its what happens when your parents never bothered to teach you about proper behavior.

I tried to stay and tough it out. I tried to be there for Spencer when Clay died. I tried to set Aiden down gently. I tried to ignore Kyla glaring daggers at me. I tried for a week, and then latched onto a chance to escape. My mother was going to Europe and wanted me with her. I didn't think that there was no ulterior motive, but I was desperate. I had to escape the accusations, the "How could you's", and "I thought you loved me's".

I thought it was only for week or two at most. I called Spencer and left a message because she still wasn't picking up her phone. I packed my bags. I called Spencer again and left another message on her phone. I drove to the with my mother and got to our gate with about 30 minutes to spare. I took some of that time to call Spencer and leave yet another message. After we got to our seats on the plane I tried again. I left a ridiculously rambling message:

"Hey, Spence. It's Ash, again. The plane's about to take off. I'll call you when I get to the hotel. I'm sorry that it's really short notice. I hope everyone's okay. I'm sorry that I'm leaving. I'm sorry Clay's dead and that prom was a disaster and that I didn't say anything and I still don't know what to say. I'm sorry that I suck at being there for anyone and that I dragged you into this. I'm sorry I can't be what everybody needs. I-"

I was crying at this point and I forced myself to shut up and make sense.

"Look, I just need to get away and breathe. I'll call every night. If you don't hear from me in two weeks you should probably call the police and tell them to start searching for my dead body." I was trying for some humor to defuse my earlier despair. "I love-"

"Ashley! Put your phone away already! That's the second announcement they've made!" My mother snapped at me. She snatched it and closed it before turning it off.

"-you." I trailed off.

If I was an honest person maybe I'd tell you that I called so many times because I wanted her to beg me to stay. Maybe I'd tell you that if she had even suggested that she wanted me around I would have smashed a window and leapt off that plane in a heartbeat. Maybe I'd tell you that after a week of being pushed away and jabbed at I didn't know if Spencer still loved me for just me anymore. Maybe I just needed her to tell me to stay.

But I'm not honest, because I didn't call her again all summer after that.

So all I can say is that I regretted Europe the minute the plane left the ground.

I wish she'd called the police after two weeks. Though maybe even that was too late.

Spencer's PoV

When I look back on prom, all I will think of is getting my heart broken. Then inevitably I'll be assaulted by waves of guilt. How come that's all I remember when I think back? My brother _died_.

But all I remember is Ashley's face. So confused and lost. My heart insisting that this was it. She was going to choose Aiden over me. I had seen it coming, powerless to stop it. I bolted out. Everyone followed me.

Before we could get anything settled the shooting started. Clay died and Aiden took a bullet to the heart. Ashley bounced around between comforting me and Aiden's bedside. I shut her out for a week into the summer. Looking back, that wasn't the best thing to do. All it could possibly accomplish was push her towards Aiden.

I did it nevertheless.

I ignored her sad brown eyes. Turned away from her affection. Deafened myself to her declarations of love. I convinced myself that they were fake, she already declared undying love for Aiden, she was doing it because as my girlfriend she was supposed to. That if Aiden recovered she'd leave me. She was just looking for a good moment to end it.

It wasn't the most logical conclusion I 've ever reached. Especially since Ashley is one of the least likely people to do anything that she is supposed to. Sometimes I swear that girl will go out of her way to annoy people by breaking rules, even if there's nothing in it for her. She's just contrary like that. Maybe she feels safer knowing that she won't be trapped by expectations.

But everyone is.

She's just expected to not follow expectations, if that makes any sense at all.

Anyways, I lived in this delusion. Admittedly I was probably worse than Ashley when her Dad died.

Then, one night I was laying on my bed, just reliving the horrors of prom. Every word said, every movement made until, finally, I had reached an epiphany. And it sure took me long enough.

I scrabbled for my phone. Aiden had declared undying love for Ashley. Ashley hadn't said anything back. For most of the scene she had been spluttering half coherent words and looking stunned.

"Blockhead. Idiot." I muttered under my breath. "How could it take a freaking week for you to figure out that Ashley still loves you."

24 missed calls. 18 new messages. I hadn't checked my phone for a long time. I looked down my missed calls list. Ashley. Ashley. Ashley. Ashley, interspersed with relatives and old friends who I no longer wished to see offering condolences, no doubt because they were _supposed to_.

"Supposed to" will make you doubt the sincerity of everything and everybody. _God, Ash I'm sorry._

I started listening to the messages. The first two were from Ashley. Worried, nervous, and vulnerable, but managing to keep a normal conversation. Then the third one:

"Hey, Spence. It's Debbie. Just calling to-"

I slammed 2 for delete so violently I nearly dropped my phone. I was so angry. I still can't believe she'd have the nerve to call after everything.

I continued to listen to Ashley's increasingly desperate messages. It was agonizing to hear her heart crack a little bit more with each message. She told me she understood that I wanted to be alone. She was going to Europe. Just for a week or two. She'd give me space and time to grieve.

She was begging me to tell her to stay.

I was hurt that she'd hesitated when Aiden told her he loved her. I should have been everything. But I'd more or less shoved her towards Aiden afterwards. Whose to say she's the only one at fault.

I stewed in my guilt as I listened to the frantic intensity of her final message. I called her, but she must have been in the air already because it went to voicemail.

"Hey Ash, its Spencer. I- I really want to talk to you. I hope you have a nice trip. I love you... no matter what."

I closed my phone and tried to still my racing heart_. It's not too late. It's just two weeks. It's not too late. She'll call tonight. We'll be together forever. It's NOT too late._

But she never called that summer. Because, like my heart knew, it was too late.

We didn't survive that summer. Spencer Carlin survived. Ashley Davies survived. "We" didn't though. Even individually, neither of us were left whole.

"We" died that summer.

I don't know if I believe in reincarnation.


	2. Riding A Storm Back Home

**...**

**I was running on a high from all the reviews. It seems some of you like that I'm more sympathetic towards Ashley than they were on the show. Others think I'm cutting her too much slack. Remember in my version she only planned to be gone for two weeks. Honestly, I'm trying to make both of them as even as possible after the prom. I thought the show was a little unfair to always have Ashley being the one screwing everything up. A lot of stories seem that way too, so I'm doing my best to have both of them take some blame.**

**Anyways the reviews were very heartening. I'm trying not to post until I have the next chapter written so that I'm always ahead of the game. The reviews are making that very hard though. If at any point I stop posting regularly, feel free to bombard me with constant messages and guilt me into posting more. **

**The Italics are part of the story. **

**Obviously I don't own South of Nowhere, otherwise I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. **

**[Chapter Now Edited for Ridiculous Spelling Mistakes]**

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_It's so easy to find someone online. I think that I will never create a Facebook account. It's so easy to track someone down. I don't want someone stalking my every step. I'm no computer expert and look at what I've already found._

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Ashley's PoV

It was awkward.

When I came home from Europe I returned to accusing stares, _all summer, you didn't even call. _I avoided Aiden like the plague. I lived with Kyla who was avoiding me like the plague.

"Hey, Kyla", I said when I first returned.

"Hello, Ashley. I hope you had a nice trip." And then she left the room.

And Spencer? Well, after the first raging tirade Spencer just sat there and looked at me coldly and started the occasional interrogation.

"Why didn't you call?"

"I lost my phone." It was true.

"You couldn't get another one?" She asked, disbelievingly.

"No."

"You couldn't send a letter, e-mail, anything?"

"No"

"Are you going to say anything about it?" She asked the last question contemptuously in the same tone that teachers use with regard to my homework. I knew that anything I said would be taken as another Ashley Davies excuse. The most ridiculous one being my mother accidentally threw it away. As if my mother would ever clean things up or even be in the house.

"No."

I met her eyes. "There's nothing to say."

She went back to glowering me.

I wandered around the school halls. The teachers were looking at me funny because I'd lost the taste to spar with them. I ignored the usual barbed insults. I felt numb, no energy left to fight.

"You're late again, Ms. Davies," remarked my science teacher with relish.

"Mm-hmm," was my only acknowledgement.

"Any excuses?"

He looked at me. He seemed almost . . . eager. I'd never noticed that before.

I shrugged.

There's absolute silence for a moment.

His face fell. His facial expression was incredulous. He looked like a kid who'd been told he wasn't getting a birthday present from his favorite uncle.

He didn't even send me to the principals office. I swear he was disappointed by my lack of an excuse.

I just throw my stuff on a desk and listen for all of ten seconds as he clears his throat and resumes the stunned class. The class was as astonished as he was. It took everyone to get back on track.

I sat out of habit with Spencer during lunch enduring more unpleasant glares. After school I'd go to a mostly empty home and just sit on the bed. I didn't want to play guitar. Sometimes at night I was so frightened of being alone in the dark that I went to random clubs and nurse a drink through the night.

Before unwanted admirers would get turned down coolly, but calmly. Now, I was liable to freak out and panic at an unwelcome touch. I broke one guy's nose.

I couldn't stand being alone in a dark house, but I had no friends and was afraid of even the most impersonal contact from anyone. When I was in a crowd every face became a possible threat and I couldn't take it.

I was almost relieved at the lack of public or private displays of affection from Spencer. For the first time in my life I was uncomfortable with my body and had taken to wearing loose, too large clothes.

Eventually Spencer stopped being so determinedly angry with me she would really started to worry. I could feel the distance between us growing and I couldn't bring myself to stop it. The wall that I was building contained too much pain and guilt and too many horrors for me to tear it down. Breaking apart the stones would unleash a tidal wave too powerful to stand against.

I just kept building. Pouring my feelings into each brick and building a wall with no gates, leaving me empty. Everything I had was poured into the mortar. I was really becoming nothing. I wanted the numbness so badly. Feeling nothing is better than terror and agony, right?

I never stopped to wonder what the point was in a wall that protected nothing.

Spencer's PoV

It's amazing how much you can delude yourself when you're desperate. I just sat that entire summer foolishly waiting for a call from Ashley. I left more messages on her cell phone than she left on mine. I went crazy.

Inevitably though, the first day of school came and I felt my heart breaking. I felt used and screwed over and so, so stupid- because hadn't everyone warned me that this was going to happen, that Ashley never stayed and never cared. Of course they had and _of course_ I ignored them and defended her.

The minute I saw her I was furious. I was seeing red and I couldn't think straight. I was screaming at her. Luckily we were in a mostly empty hall. And she just took it.

"I'm sorry," was the only thing she said.

"You're sorry, Ash?," I spat out. "That's all you ever have to say. Do you think that magically makes things better? That I should forgive you like we're in Kindergarten and you just accidentally dropped something on me? You were gone the entire summer and I never heard anything from you! Do realize how much it hurts not to know if the one person you'd give everything for doesn't care?"

I expected her to shout back, argue, cry, beg, but she just looked at me tiredly.

"Yes," a pause, and then,"I'm sorry."

Her lack of emotion threw me off and I resorted to throwing her angry glances.

I was prepared to deal with a groveling Ashley, or a defensive one, determined not to let me break up with her. I was ready to end this no matter what, to stand firm. Her lack of any zeal confused me and I tried to figure out what game she was playing.

I was so dumbfounded that I neglected to break up with her. Instead I observed her closely. Before long I was worried. She wasn't acting right. She wasn't her usual cheerful, insolent self. The teachers were shocked by the new level of apathy she's reached. Most of the time she sat silent and broody, just staring off into space. Different from when her father died. Not pushing me away, but not letting me in either.

It just seemed like she had stopped feeling or caring.

In some ways it was scarier than when her father died.

I had no idea what to do.


	3. What's the Code?

**So here's Chapter 3. Some people are still pretty ticked off at Ash which okay because right now that's the point. As for Ashley's bad reputation, I wasn't really referring to prom, more to season 2 in comparison to season 1 as well as how in season three Spencer kisses Jonica and nothing happens as well as Spencer moving away for college. I feel like they only showed Spencer's side of that story. Anyways, feel free to disagree with me, but please continue reading.**

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_I'm booking the next flight to Boston. I'm doing it before I lose my nerve. I can take whatever I find._

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_Spencer's PoV

Out of a mix of sheer desper- exasperation, I went to Chelsea, the one non-Ashley related friend I have.

That's what happens when you date Hurricane Ashley. Somehow everything and everyone becomes inextricably tangled up with her.

I met Chelsea at her art studio. She hadn't been totally clueless on the Ashley situation. She was the only person outside of family that I'd really had to talk to in a while.

"So what's with you and Ashley these days?" She asked the moment I sat down. "Last time I checked you were ready to kick her out to the curb. I mean, you're not exactly cuddly, but you're not acting like to people who have just broken up either."

"I don't know," I sighed. "I was going to do it, but there's something weird with her. She just isn't all there. Part of me is still really mad. But the other part is worried. And the mad part of me is saying 'who cares' and the other part is saying 'shouldn't I at least try to figure out what's wrong'. So now I'm in limbo between concern and anger because what if there really is something wrong and I break it off when she needs me?"

Chelsea paused in her project to look at me sagely. "What about you and what you need? You could end it and still be there for her."

"If I end it she might push me away from her." _And I need her. _Something I didn't admit to Chelsea because that would have been a lie.

Right?

"Well, ask her. Push your way into her crazy head because I can't believe that girl would have abandoned you for anything in the world."

"What about anyone?" That's my greatest fear. That she met someone in Europe. That she's distancing herself from me as she falls back into old habits. I thought I'd made my peace with Ashley's less than reputable past before we even became a "we", but at that moment I was flooded with sudden doubt. I remember a nightmare I had, the night we first met.

I was in the locker room. Standing in a towel with my hair still damp and suddenly Madison and a bunch of other girls start accusing me of looking at them and being gay. Their mantra: "You're so gay" echoed of the walls and I couldn't escape, no matter how hard I tried.

I can almost laugh at that part now, because I am "so gay". Honestly, I don't get how you can be "so" gay. I don't even know exactly why that should have been so terrifying, but at the time I was scared witless and completely disoriented. That part of the dream no longer scares me. I've come to terms with who I am. As I've said before it's kind of funny.

There's one part of the dream that still can eat away at me whenever I remember it though. As I run around in circles in the locker room, on the verge of tears, I turn a corner and see Ashley standing there, expressionless.

My heart cried for her to save me, protect me. I called out to her, but when I do Aiden appears and puts his arm around her shoulders. And they walk away.

"Spencer, if Ashley left you for someone else she's an even bigger idiot than I thought she was, 'cause damn girl, you're hot, and if you were available all the eligible lesbians and not-so-eligible guys in California would be following you around like a pack of lost puppies."

I snorted. "Yeah, right. Last time I checked there was no puppy pack mooning over me."

"That's only because Ashley's scared them all away. She doesn't like sharing Spencer."

We talked some more and Chelsea held firm to her belief that I needed to bully the answer out of Ashley and at least try to get the relationship back on track. She finally persuaded me that despite the risk of Ashley growing even more detached, Ashley couldn't get much more aloof, we weren't getting anywhere, and Chelsea was Chelsea and hadn't ever steered me wrong before.

So I went to find Ashley, literally and figuratively. I didn't know what she would do, but I had to try.

Ashley's PoV

I sat on the couch in the sitting room. It was more secluded than the living room so there was less of a chance of having yet another awkward run-in with Kyla. The only real difference was the lack of a television in the sitting room.

I'd just been sitting there as always and brooding. I'm such a sucker for punishment because even though I never wanted to think about it again I kept going back and just sitting there and reflecting. Trying to find a way for it to be okay.

Going to Europe was the worst thing I could've done to Spencer at that time, and I bet the universe had just found the perfect way to punish me. At the time, it had sounded like the perfect thing to do. My mother wouldn't stop talking how wonderful it would be for us to both go, which should have warned me that something horrible was about to happen.

I'm clearly not very good at recognizing apocalyptic signs.

By the time I got on the plane I was beginning to regret it. I would have turned around and got on the next back to LA when I first landed, but my mother dragged me off. Besides I was still a minor and flying unaccompanied was tricky. Someone has to pick you up at the other end and my mother would've had to fill out forms. Chances of my mom actually taking the time to do that: 0 out of 0.

"Ash,"

I leapt and twisted when a hand descended on my shoulder. It's just wild unreasonable fear. No logic to it. Like that time I watched a program on killer crocodiles when I was nine. Even though I knew the crocodiles were in Africa and they wouldn't be living under my bed, I still jumped from three feet away every time I got on and off my bed.

I had my back on the floor and was supported by my elbows as I stared wildly at Spencer. Her face was carved into concern.

"It's just me," she says as I struggle to rationalize away my fear and the flashbacks, -oh God, the flashbacks. Rough grabbing hands on my shoulder, my arms, my face, my hair, everywhere. And that sneering voice, taunting and cruel, "What are you so afraid of? It's just me."

My eyes are screwed shut, but I feel someone tuck my hair behind my ear. And the softest of whispers, "What's wrong, baby? Are you all right? What are you so afraid of?" Her fingers caress my cheek where the bone is still sharp, having never quite regained its old layer of flesh.

Her fingers were light across my skin, but increased in pressure as she stroked more firmly, trying to soothe me even though she didn't know what she was fighting.

Without warning I grab her face to seek her lips with mine. I soldered them together because I needed her. I needed her to prove to me that the world wasn't horrible, that someone cared, that someone would understand everything, that someone wouldn't leave behind as they moved on.

I needed her to prove that someone doesn't shove their tongue into your mouth, or hit you, or seize your everything, but fear.

It had been so long since we kissed. Since the night of prom. Eventually we stopped and slowed the pace, panting softly. I felt Spencer nuzzle my neck.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." Pathetic.

"Stop lying,'" she says without anger. "What are you hiding from me?"

I don't like directly lying to Spencer, all of my instincts shriek at its wrongness. The thought of actually saying it makes me nauseous though because this way it can still be a dream. I can tell myself that it wasn't real, that is wasn't that bad and I'm just blowing it out of proportion so I don't have to deal with the guilt of leaving Spencer. If I tell, suddenly, people will want me to do all sorts of things and everyone will want to know everything.

I settle for parts of the truth.

"I'm afraid you're going to leave me. That you're still angry, that I don't deserve you. I think that you hate me for going to Europe. I feel guilty about giving up on trying to find you and not pushing harder. I hate that I left the entire summer. I hate the way things turned out. And I can't blame you if you leave me."

Let's face it, I'm a good liar. Partly because I can tell half-truths and convince myself that they're the whole truth. I can convince myself that lies are real.

Nobody realizes how well I can lie when I really try. Usually with teachers I enjoy making up ridiculous stories, but when push comes to shove I can convince anyone to believe me.

For the moment, at least, she appeared a little reassured by my answer. We fell asleep on my couch.

. . .

Something was wrong. I felt it the moment I woke up in the middle of the night. There was a searing pain in my lower belly. I was terrified because it felt unexpectedly familiar.

Suddenly the pain reached a climax and I screamed.


	4. Why Did I Give You The Keys?

**I have finally finished the next chapter which means this one is going up. And it's about time. This is kind of short, but I felt like it was a good place to end the chapter. (Some people will be very happy with the Spencer in this chapter. I hope.) There is a certain part of this chapter where I compare anger to fire. I was wondering if it sticks out oddly. I sometimes like to write in a flowery dramatic way, but I don't know if it fits well with the tone of the story.**

**Also, I posted a poem/story yesterday so you should check that out too. It's called The Heretic Bard and its the Spashlified and greatly revised version of my favorite love ballad. (It's the only love ballad I know.)**

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_You know how sometimes you see something, so you act on that, but it turns out you missed the important part so it was all for nothing? That sucks doesn't it?_

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Spencer's PoV

At the sound of Ashley screaming I jerked off the couch and onto the floor. My skull cracked against the coffee table. I lay dazed on the ground, head pounding, until Ashley groaned in pain.

I groped through the darkness for her.

"Spencer... hospital," she gasped out between painfully rushed breaths. There was agony etched in her voice which drove me to outright panic.

Desperately I scrabbled for my cell phone. I punched in the numbers 9-1-1 as quickly as possible cooing softly to Ashley.

Finally, after an eternity of cries, moans, and shudders on Ashley's part, and unadulterated fear on mine, the ambulance arrived, ten minutes later.

I was a mess of nerves, horror, and shock by the time I got to the hospital. Trembling, I collapsed into the nearest chair when I was shuffled to the waiting room.

_Please, God. Let it be anything if it's not life-threatening_, I prayed. It had been a long time since I'd prayed. And here I was praying for the first time in months for my lesbian girlfriend. I wondered what my mother would think of that.

I was relieved that at least my mother wasn't here and working that night. If she had ended up with Ashley I couldn't imagine how awkward that would have been.

"Ma'am?" It was a doctor. He was in a white lab coat and he looked at me concernedly. I guessed he must have been trying to get my attention for a while.

"Sorry, just stressed," I replied. "How's Ashley?" _What happened? What could have happened?_

"Your friend is fine. She seems stable. She just had a miscarriage, which is unsurprising given her medical history. Although phy-"

"What?" I nearly screamed, startling the doctor. Then in a quieter voice, "She was pregnant?" fearing the answer.

The doctor realized what an awkward situation he had just entered. He continued more weakly, "Yes, she had a miscarriage, her uterus is incapable of supporting . . .".

I couldn't hear him. Ashley. Ashley. Ashley.

_How could you?_

She had slept with someone else. Not only that, a guy. How else would she get pregnant? No wonder she had been so distant, trying to hide what was happening to her, preparing to end it with me.

I felt my fury upon her homecoming, dampened by waves on concern, return tenfold, blazing into irrepressible inferno, fed on the wood of righteous anger. Because I had loved her, and defended her, and reached out to her after she had thrown me away to go on her happy little trip, and all I got in return was a broken heart. My brother _died _and she left and disappeared without a word. Nothing. How could she possibly justify that? And, God, I didn't even know what Aiden had been up to last summer either. The thought of them sneaking off in Europe made me sick.

At some point the doctor probably left because when I awoke from my anger he was gone. However a few minutes later, a nurse came and asked if I wanted to see my friend. I nodded mutely.

Ashley must have been the first person in the ward because no one else was there. The nurse disappeared after a moment. There were doubtless better things for her to do with her time than waich me stare wordlessly at Ashley.

"Why?" I managed to spit out the word between gritted teeth. Her face had closed off again, but for a moment I registered dread, pain, and resignation.

"Why are you pregnant? Did you and Aiden have a nice little honeymoon in Europe? You know, while I was grieving for my dead brother and my vanishing girlfriend," I continued with venom. "_Don't worry it'll only be for a week, Spence,_" I mocked her with a phony cheerfulness. "So, what happened? Did you get so busy fucking your ex that you just failed _to call every night_. You must think I'm an idiot. And you know what you're right."

I stepped closer, fists clenched, and got into her face, snarling angrily.

"I ignored what everyone told me you were going to do. I forgave after you broke my heart. I just let you stomp all over it again. You're a slut Ashley Davies. I hate you and I can't believe I ever loved you. You're exactly what everyone says you are, and you deserve every horrible, unlucky thing that happens to you."

I stormed out of the hospital.

Then I sat on the curb and cried.


	5. Moving Along

**I love Columbus Day. Thank God for the holiday of a guy no one remembers to honor. Otherwise October would be lethal. I still say Leif Erikson Day would be better though. **

**Don't expect updates this rapidly. Not unless it's around a holiday that doesn't really get celebrated.**

**Annoyingly, things keep getting moved around or deleted when I press the Save button on Document Manager. I think I've got everything back in place, but if things are in weird places let me know.**

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_Sometimes you know something might backfire, but you still have to try because the prize is worth the risk. I think, in those moments, you have to consider what's at stake. I, for one, have nothing left to lose._

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Ashley's PoV

Doctors are the most annoying people on the planet.

I say that with great confidence. Exhibit A: My ex-girlfriend's mother.

Throughout my stay at the hospital, the doctors there wouldn't stop prying, asking stupid questions. This time I didn't know I was pregnant. If I did I would've gotten an abortion. Seriously, please don't hate me. But I learned after the first miscarriage that carrying a baby is not a good idea for me. If I got sick it could have been deadly. Figures that I always have just enough luck to keep me alive and floundering.

Eventually the hospital released me. Hospitals are like jails, they don't send you home, they "release" you.

When I saw Kyla she looked at me like I was Lucifer and walked the other way. And that's okay. Spencer's better off without me. She shouldn't have to deal with me. It might even be easier without her.

I went up the room to my bed and sank down. It felt so good there. So right and warm and _not_ because Spencer is written everywhere there.

Spencer was gone. It didn't feel real, or even possible, like I was going to see her tomorrow or the next day, or the day after that. There was a disconnect between what I knew and what I felt. I remembered those hateful words, and I try really hard not to think of them. I can't get them out of my head, but I don't feel it. It's an idea that's so out-there that, even though I knew it was true, I couldn't believe it.

My eyes finally drifted shut. I tried to keep them open, because if there was one place where my perfectly crafted wall of numbness failed, it was in my dreams. People however, need sleep to live, and I eventually succumbed to exhaustion.

I had a dream.

It was dark and musty. I couldn't see because there was simply no light. Nothing except darkness and my own rough breathing. And then a laugh. Not happy or warm, but gloating, superior. I bolted away from the sound, driven by blind fear. I couldn't get anywhere because I careened and crashed into things. I couldn't tell what they were, but I would pick myself up and run again as fast as possible. Anything to delay the inevitable. Finally I hurtled into what felt like a wall and crumbled onto the floor. Somewhere the laugh was coming. Only this time it cursed as it stumbled over fallen whatever they were's and made its way to where I was a pile on the ground. The laughter was back by the time it came to stand right next to me. A hand dragged me up by the forearm.

Suddenly the seemingly impenetrable black was pierced by a shaft of light. There was an opening like a hatch above me and it drew my eyes though I had to squint. A silhouette peered down at us: Spencer. I couldn't quite make out her features with the light behind her, but I will always know Spencer.

In the certainty of dreams I knew she could see everything that was, had, and would happen. I reached a hand up as though she could pull me out. She didn't move. Then her voice filtered through, "_You deserve every horrible, unlucky thing that happens to you"... "You're a slut Ashley Davies"... "I hate you"..."Every, horrible thing...". _

The light disappeared.

Spencer's PoV

I couldn't stop crying for weeks. Every little thing would set me off. I refused to admit I ever felt anything for her. I forced myself through. There was no going back to who we were. I didn't want to, it was to painful to ever return to. So I made a promise to myself that my next relationship would be with someone who was sweet and caring. Not just some of the time, but all of the time.

I wandered King High's halls in a daze, with no idea of the world around me. That is, until I realized that I was doing exactly what Ashley was doing after her trip. After that I threw myself into everything. My GPA skyrocketed and my English teacher stared when I handed in my latest essays.

Life without Ashley Davies was good.

At least when it came to my productivity. I felt lonely though. I didn't have many friends. I didn't even see Ashley anymore (a good thing) because she hadn't come to school for the last two weeks. Deep down I was burning with curiosity and concern, but it wasn't any of my business anymore. Ashley could always run to Aiden if she needed to.

None of this solved the fact that my only friend was Chelsea, who was now heavily pregnant. We didn't share a lot of classes and she needed rest.

One day, I was waiting at the door to the sketch class for Chelsea in case she needed help with anything. A girl with a bunch of books rushed out and slammed full tilt into me. We both collapsed, me stumbling backwards and her crumpling like she'd hit a brick wall.

"Oh shit." She said, helping me to my feet. "Sorry. I didn't realize anyone was there."

Hmm. Let's see, when you bump into Ashley she tells you that you "create disaster wherever you go. "

"It's okay." I reply.

"It's just that I'm new and I've been rushing around trying to get to my classes on time at least for the first day."

"What about the second day?"

"I figure I've already graced them with my presence once." She said with a dignified air before cracking into a grin.

For a second I was reminded glaringly of Ashley, the arrogance that I had thought was only an act to make me laugh had become more and more a part of her. On the other hand this girl was already a lot nicer than Ashley when I first met her.

I knew from great experience in dealing with egomaniacs that the best response to such a conceited statement was to roll my eyes.

So I did.

"So, I'm Spencer, and if you want me to show you where the cafeteria is you're going to have to ask nicely."

"I'm Carmen and if you show me where the cafeteria is I promise to be your friend for a year."

"Lucky me."

We started laughing. Then, Chelsea came out and the two started talking about art.

It's good to have friends.

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**That's chapter 5. Things are probably going to be moving faster in Spencer's world so I'm not sure if I will be posting more chapters with just Spencer's PoV.**

**Please read "The Heretic Bard". It's kind of a story written in verse instead of prose, plus it's actually finished. I know it's the second time I've asked, but apparently I have to learn "Shameless Pitch".**


	6. The Tortoise And The Hare

**I'm writing a lot for some reason. If I start to fail school I blame this. It keeps drawing me away from my homework. Lots of you are catching on to the problem now, but I do things big. **

**Things are slow in this chapter, but they get intense in the next one.**

**I feel like Ashley is stuck dragging along while Spencer is rushing to get away from the past.**

**Also some inspiration comes from the girl in my Math class who wasn't sure if the Hare from "The Tortoise and The Hare" was a bunny or a rabbit.**

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_I really can't stand planes anymore. I could never sleep on them, no matter how long the flight was. They're even worse now._

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Ashley PoV

I dragged my body down to the kitchen. I'm not sure when. I didn't really care.

Drinking and eating, as it turns out, are necessities. Lately though, they had become more and more like chores. The type that you blow off because you really don't feel like they need to be done.

As I grudgingly ate a bowl of cereal my mother swept in and regarded me frostily.

"You're inheritance has come. Seriously, Ashley, have some self-respect. I did not give birth to a slob. When was the last time you took a shower? You will not, under any circumstances, go out looking like that. You look like a good-for-nothing bum. Imagine if anyone saw you. No daughter of mine will be seen in public looking like some sort of whore."

Not to long before such comments would have rankled me. Now they were nothing in comparison with what she could really do. Besides, she was probably telling the truth. Instead I considered the papers she had tossed at me with mild interest. It was 12.5 million dollars. My only plan with concern to my inheritance had been to move out into an apartment. That, unfortunately would require me to find an apartment to move into. I wasn't in the mood to scope out apartments all over the city. And at the very least, there were people in this house: Kyla, even if we weren't talking, Christine, when she was home (though she'd probably only encourage trouble), plus there was usually a maid or gardener every few days.

I just didn't want to be alone.

I must be a schizophrenic too (one of the few mental illnesses I haven't been diagnosed with yet) because I didn't want to be near or talk to anyone either.

The next day, when I made another migration to the kitchen I encountered Aiden carrying cardboard boxes down the steps.

_What the hell?_

I brushed past him coldly and made my way upstairs, ignoring his weak greeting. There I found Kyla pushing more boxes out into the hallway. She straightened up and we acknowledged each other.

"Ashley."

"Kyla."

There was an uneasy pause. Kyla's boxes blocked the way back to my room. There was no way through, unless I wanted to look like a ridiculous five-year old jumping over boxes. As a result we had reached a stalemate at the line of boxes. I had access to most of the house, but my room was on her side which mattered more to me than the rest of the house.

"I'm moving out."

"I see... you move fast."

She laughed derisively for a moment. "The inheritance came like a week ago. You've just been locked up in your hermit cave. I wasn't going to waste any time getting away from Christine." Hardly surprising.

"Oh," was my elaborate and well-thought out response.

_Aiden? Were they back together? _That really annoyed me. I mean you confess undying love for your girlfriends sister, but she didn't want you. And somehow, now, you're back in sugar land with your girlfriend like nothing happened?

Kyla apparently has mind-reading powers. "I'm milking his guilt and desperation."

"That's pleasant."

By means unknown to man (as far as I could tell) Kyla and I had magically managed an incredible feat of subconscious maneuvering. We were now on the opposite side of the Box Wall than we had started on. We continued to stare blankly at each other. Neither of us particularly enjoyed the awkwardness that our current relationship consisted of. Neither of us knew quite how to fix it. Personally, I preferred the hate that had been my initial reaction to her arrival than this forced politeness.

I think she realized that I didn't ask Aiden to go proclaiming love. On the other hand she probably still resented it. On my behalf I didn't want her to leave me with the servants and Christine. I wasn't too keen on her prying into me either. Finally, she started to talk.

"Are you okay, Ash? You've been kind of off since you came back. And you and Sp-".

At the beginning of _her_ name all thoughts of reconciliation froze in my head. I was through my door faster than the Bunny before he took a nap.

Or was that the Rabbit?

Whatever. You know what I mean.

Spencer's PoV

So how exactly do you go about telling someone that you're gay?

You'd think that after having a girlfriend already I'd be a little more comfortable with that. I feel like the second time is worse than the first. Ashley was my first girlfriend and she knew that. She knew that I needed her to guide me. The second time though, it's like everybody expects you to know how to go about everything.

Now that I've got a new friend how do I tell her that I'm gay? Oh, and I think that she's kinda cute. Mustn't forget that.

Carmen and I started hanging out more and more often. My parents liked her which I almost resented seeing as my mother would lecture me every time I even mentioned Ashley's name. I tried to keep the resentment to a minimum because dating Ashley Davies was the worst idea of my life. Also, if my mom finally decides to accept my friends, well, who am I to be complaining?

I wanted to get away from Ashley. I wanted to move on. Carmen was nice, but I hadn't known her for that long. I definitely didn't know her sexual orientation. With Ashley it was easy. Between Madison and Ashley's own blatant ways it wasn't much of a secret. Even though she didn't seem like the type, I couldn't be sure that Carmen wasn't a homophobe.

Finally, when we were just in my bedroom, talking, I attempted to find out.

"So ever had any nice boyfriends?" I asked. That didn't sound weird at all.

"Umm, no," was her reply. Well that told me a lot. (I really had to do something about this sarcastic streak.)

There was silence. So much for that conversation.

"Who's that in all the pictures?" She finally asked. I followed her pointing index to the photos on my dresser. Most of them had Clay in them. There used to be ones of Ashley up there too. Needless to say those are gone.

"That's Clay. He's- was my adopted brother. He died in the prom shooting last year. He was Chelsea's girlfriend." I closed my eyes. I'd gotten better when it comes dealing with Clay's death, but I couldn't help feeling so painfully sad.

Sad. It's such a first grade word, but sometimes those are the only words that can encompass the truth.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I- my best friend died when a guy shot him during a mugging. He never knew when to stay still or listen." Silence ensued once more before me moved on to less dismal subjects.

At some point Dad poked his head through the door to ask if Carmen wanted to stay dinner. She nodded and about half an hour later we were eating dinner.

Carmen remained unfazed through grace and managed survive my mother's eager, but polite questions. It was a stark contrast to the awkward family dinners that Ashley had been a part of.

"Sorry about my family, they're just weird sometimes."

"It's okay, Spencer. They're not that bad."

"Are you kidding me? You did notice my brother right? And my mother?" I stared disbelievingly at her.

"They could be worse, though your brother..." she trailed off.

"Yeah. Don't bother trying."

We laughed for a moment at Glen's less than stellar attempts to charm Carmen.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom, I'll meet you in my room," I said once we had reasonably controlled ourselves. After a bit, (my mother caught me on my way out of the bathroom) I joined Carmen back in my room.

"Not to sound like I was going through your stuff or anything, but I stepped the edge of this and tripped. It was underneath your bed, but there was a little poking out. Somehow I can't picture you wearing this," she said amused. She's holding out a shirt that has "Kiss My Ass" written on it in bold red letters. The shirt was also rather skimpy as it was, of course, Ashley's. My throat seized as I remembered the night she had tried to convince me to let her wear it to dinner with my mother.

"It's my ex's." I answered, doing my best to keep my voice from getting short and bitter.

"Oh... your ex's?" She asked uncertainly. I couldn't blame her. The shirt was definitely designed for a girl.

"Yeah. My ex-girlfriend's," I confirmed not looking at her.

So I was surprised when I heard a muttered "Thank God."

"What?" I was confused, and my eyes darted back to hers.

She gave a relieved and slightly embarrassed grin. "I was wondering if you would freak out if I told you that I was gay, especially since you guys are so religious. But obviously..." she gestured at the shirt.

It only took a second before we were laughing all over again.


	7. Apparition

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**This chapter was written a while ago and I'm pleased with how it turned out. It took me forever to get down to writing the next chapter which is why this one is so delayed. The poem "Bliss and Grief" was written by Marie Ponsot. For a short poem it carries a lot of meaning without requiring the reader to need to reach enlightenment to figure it out. Well, all irrelevance aside, here goes chapter 7. There are more changes in perspective in this one. I don't think it should be too confusing since I have each one labeled for you.**

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_How can you tell what would have happened? Assigning blame is such a ridiculous concept because who knows?_

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Ashley's PoV

Once, in some English class we had to choose a poem from this book full of "amazing contemporary poets" and write a report on it. This is the poem I chose by some old lady. It's still my favorite poem unless I'm looking for a laugh.

_"Bliss and Grief"_

_No one_

_is here_

_right now._

Don't you think that's an awesome poem? No over-thinking, just direct and to the point. You don't need to spend hours killing yourself for the deep hidden meaning. It's easy to memorize. You can pull it out whenever.

I thought it summed up my situation quite nicely.

Spencer's PoV

"So, are you two dating?"

Carmen choked on her sandwich. My water came out of my nose. I can't believe she just asked that!

"What?"

"Then, are you going to?" Chelsea continued innocently. Gasping violently in pain I glared at her. "Well, you rwo always look like you want to ask the other something and then you back out."

"Thanks for the info," Carmen coughed out.

Chelsea shrugged and took a bite of fruit.

That afternoon Carmen dropped by my locker.

"About lunch, did you possibly want to hang out sometime?" She asked in a rush. I knew what she was asking. At least I thought I did. She was asking me out, right? Why can't people just be clear so I know whether it's supposed to be a date or not? I mean, remember Kelly? The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

"We hang out all the time," I probed. My breath quickened.

"Do you want to, you know, 'hang out'?" Awkwardness levels peaked. I wished she'd be a bit more definite.

"Like what?"

"Like we could go somewhere, umm, the beach? And eat ice cream?" She stammered, shifting from foot to foot. All of her answers are questions. It's not very helpful. I felt like someone was watching me.

"What does any of this have to do with lunch?" I was trying to drag this out until I knew exactly what she was saying. I ran my hand through my hair. She began to babble.

"Do you want to go on a date with me? You know,..." I was distracted from most of her word vomit because I had found the onlooker.

She stood there looking like a phantom. She was too far away to hear, but I could see tired circles under her eyes. I couldn't register Carmen's voice consciously at all. "I can't." Her brown curls were disheveled and her bones protruded almost out of her skin. Clothes sagged from her skeletal frame and waved in a previously refreshing, but now utterly arctic, breeze. Her skin was pallid, lighter than I had ever seen it. In that moment every part of her wan, frail form clashed agonizingly with the brilliant LA sun.

Then, she focused her gaze on Carmen next to me and simply erupted. Her eyes turned from gaunt, sunken hollows to sizzling pools of envy in seconds; her face went from listless to livid; her body, from ghost to beast. Suddenly she was unbelievably alive and extremely enraged. If she had a gun she probably would have shot Carmen in that instant. If looks could kill Carmen would be burning in the deepest layers of hell.

She looked more angry, hurt and confused than I'd ever seen her.

And that changed everything.

Ashley's PoV

After not being in school for several weeks I was "expelled". I don't know how expulsion actually fixes anything if someone's not going to school, but it's not my problem.

After some tediousness, the school told me to clean out my locker and leave. There were a few things in there that I wanted to keep so I went back in the afternoon when most people had left.

And I saw her.

And for a second I thought I could just go up to her and smile, and grab her hand. But of course I couldn't. And that realization cut all the deeper when I recognized the girl standing beside her. Spencer was replacing me.

It hurt.

I felt it.

Spencer's PoV

The fury and jealousy that radiated off her body molded my concern into another burst of righteous anger. What right did she have to be jealous? She got Aiden. It was so typical of Ashley to want what she couldn't have.

When she had me she wanted Aiden, always going to his house, getting touchy-feely and then saying she was just annoying Madison, it was so blatant from the start. And now, she had been pregnant with Aiden's kid, but she still wanted me. She was a spoiled brat. And here she was, stopping me from moving on.

Carmen.

Carmen was from a poor family. She knew things other just material possessions mattered. She wasn't greedy. She was nice. She was artistic. Even if I didn't marry her she was a great person, and who was I to let her go because I caught a glimpse of a cheating ex-.

I yanked my gaze away from _hers_ and look towards Carmen who was turning away sadly. I had no idea what I had said, but I was certain that it couldn't have been affirmative from her disappointed expression. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

"Wait! Carmen!"

"You don't have to if you don't want to," she unhappily assured me.

"I definitely want to. I just don't have a lot of time right at this moment."

She didn't believe me. "I'm serious Spencer,-"

"So am I." Then, just to prove it to her, I kissed her. I made sure I deepen it until she responded tentatively too.

I didn't know what Carmen did after we broke apart. My eyes searched for Ashley, but she was gone.

Gone like a ghost of my past.

Ashley's PoV

Spencer and I just stared at each other for a moment. A long moment. A really, really long moment. One of those moments that the rest of the world must think is so short, but for just the people that are caught up in that moment lasts longer than any moment should.

I recognized the girl next to her. I didn't need to hear anything. It was clear that the girl was asking Spencer out or had at least a huge crush on her. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that someone else would ever ask out_ my_ Spencer. But she wasn't mine anymore. Whether or not I managed to realize that it was true.

_Not mine._

_Not mine._

But why, out of all the gay or bi girls at King (and believe me, there are more than Spencer thinks) did Carmen Madruga have to be the one who would want Spencer? I was lucky that it had taken this long for someone to ask her out. Or maybe not. What did I know? Spencer could have already gotten a new girlfriend. The idea made me nauseous.

Why not? She was perfect. She's sweet and caring. She's forgiving and unbelievably beautiful.

But Carmen Madruga?

I thought I had seen the last of her when they moved to San Diego. Apparently I hadn't. If she got any closer to Spencer I'd make sure it was the last anyone saw of her.

Then, Carmen started walking away, not even noticing that Spencer barely acknowledged her presence right now. I was relieved. Then Spencer pulled the girl back into her, and kissed her.

She kissed her.

I sped down the hall and out the door in a flash. Nothing, not even a chance to bring my father back to life, could have tempted me to stay in the same mile radius as the love of my life and her new girlfriend.

And the entire time an emotional tidal wave swept through me. They blared blazingly at me. Guilt, hurt, anger, envy, love.

I felt them all. Is that good or bad?

Spencer's PoV

I didn't know how I felt when I didn't see Ash still there. Disappointment? Relief? Guilt?

I felt guilty the moment the kiss ended. In retrospect it was easy to see that I had only kissed Carmen to make Ashley jealous. Maybe though, if Ashley hadn't shown up I would have still kissed Carmen and accepted her offer. What if I would have rejected her offer? What if Ashley threw me off kilter and affected everything I did? If she hadn't shown up and brought out my vindictive side would anything be the same?

There's no way to know what being under the influence of Ashley Davies can do to you.


	8. At Times I Despair

**Yes, I'm horrible. Kill me now. Honestly though I was sick, but still going to school because I wasn't quite sick enough for my Mom to let me stay home. She kept on saying if I got worse. Long story short I was miserable and cranky. If I had posted something I probably would accidentally post a school project.**

**The next chapter was really hard to write though. I was going in a direction that wasn't working so I finally just deleted part of it and changed it utterly. After that it was like butter.**

**By the way, does anyone know what the difference between visitors and hits is on the story traffic page?**

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__When I was little I could never understand suicide. Why would anyone ever want to take their own life?_

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Ashley's PoV

I got home still roaring with hurt and despair and loss. I had never really understood that Spencer and I just weren't anymore. I knew she had broken up with me. Emotionally, I never really felt it. Intellectually, I hadn't even considered the possibility of Spencer letting me go. Spiraling with a avalanche emotions I found my guitar and piano and started playing without even realizing it. Months had passed since the last time I had touched an instrument, so quite predictably I sucked.

It took me awhile to write any songs. Occasionally I would break down in tears. Looking back it's east to see that I didn't write any great songs that day. Dazed, I failed to reach anything resembling genius. In my experience I don't write great music when I'm in the throes of agony. I might have great ideas while in the throes of agony, but great ideas don't always turn into great products. My thoughts can't focus enough to actually compose well.

Sometimes, I'm not sure why I write songs. At that moment, it sure wasn't therapeutic. It didn't take away any pain, if anything it magnified everything I was feeling. What it did do was to make things real. Singing the words aloud, giving them structure, forced my mind to face them. Partially, at the very least. Maybe I needed that.

Even if I could deal with Spencer exploring her options, I refused to accept that of all people in the world she'd choose Carmen Madruga over me. Or for that matter Carmen Madruga over almost anybody in the world. I remembered a lot of stuff, and honestly, I would rather Spencer go for Aiden. He's an annoying idiot, but overall harmless.

I was alone with no one to go to advice. It was all up to me, and I'm sure that by now you know that I'm a horrible decision maker.

In the end I decided I had to try, at the very least, to tell Spencer what she was getting into.

Or I could just kill Carmen and have the entire fiasco be over with. Killing Carmen, as tempting as it sounded, was risky and probably only going to make Spencer even more furious with me if that was possible. I wasn't sure if it was.

That didn't stop me from envisioning several scenarios that ended with Carmen dead.

Spencer's PoV

I was alone in the house when she came.

That day Glen had taken off to see if he could get a job (figures that he'd still be living at home.) And Mom and Dad were at work. Alone, I did my homework (it wasn't that hard) and started a paper that wasn't due for a week.

_Valence electrons in the hydrogen atom join the-_

Ding-dong.

Jolted from my work I recollected my thoughts and crept stealthily, to remain unseen by potential intruders, over to the door. Then I, well- peeped through the peephole. And there she was in all her glory: a fire blazing in a tundra. A rotting tundra, if that were possible, because she was as withered as she was the day I'd seen her at school. Her decrepit appearance shot worry through my blood once again.

Her eyes though, were so very alive, and once again they awoke my festering anger and resentment. I refused to open the door, but stood, riveted by her image, staring through the little window. At first her voice creaked a little from lack of use when she began to shout.

"Spencer! I know you're in there! You're not as sneaky as you think! I saw you tiptoeing through the dining room!" I didn't respond, expecting a bluff.

"You're wearing a blue shirt and a white skirt!"

Defeated, I opened the door without warning and snarled loudly, "What makes you think I'll open the door just because you know I'm home?" She stumbled back a few steps in surprise.

"Well, for one thing, you just did," she pointed out.

"Oh." I had an inner panic attack trying to keep my sudden urge to blush and smile under control. In the end I resorted to the time-honored scowl.

"What are you doing here?" Nastily flew out of my mouth.

"No invitation in?" She asked, with a lop-sided half-smile. It's a little unsure, but still there. Now, I also had to suppress the impulse to pull her in by the wrist, making sure she crashed into me a little and smuggle her upstairs. I chose to glare.

"Did you really expect that?" Contempt wormed its way into my voice.

Her eyes, sparkling with soft humor before, fell to the ground, then the lamp, the siding, the doorbell, the plants. Something like "Guess not" was muttered. She looked ready to give up and go already which annoyed and relieved me. The longer she was here, the harder it was not to fall to her spell.

"Leave, then." I stated flatly. Time to get straight to the point.

"It's important." She murmured.

"I'm sure it's very important. As important as getting rid of you right now is." I interjected dismissively.

"You just can't trust Carmen." She continued without pausing, like she didn't hear me, like what I had said didn't matter, like she had when I tried to explain how uncomfortable she and Aiden were making me.

"Did you hear me, Ash? Do you not hear me telling you to go away?" My voice was tinged with the irritation of disbelief. Carmen always heard me. She had when I told her about Clay. She had been polite when we crashed into each other. She didn't disappear to Europe.

"Look, Carmen has a history of being violent. Her family is from the slums. She's been arrested twice. I've heard from a lot girls that she is really abusive in her relationships," she said shifting from foot to foot.

I couldn't believe her. The nerve was appalling. "Are you deaf? Don't you hear yourself? God, you sound so much like my mother I could strangle you. Do you know how many people's advice I ignored, the respect of how many people I sacrificed to be with you? How many people tried to 'protect' me like you're doing right now? What gives you, of all people, the right to come here and trash others? Especially with information you probably got while you were under most of these girls."

She flinched, but finally, her eyes came back to mine. "They were right, okay? Being with me was probably the worst decision of you life. I know that it was. I know that it was my fault. And I know I can't change it anymore. All of those people, your mother, Madison, they were right about me. They were right to warn you away. And right now, this time, well, I'm right. You can't trust Carmen Madruga," she insisted.

Her logic left me stupefied. To defy her warning would mean that I had considered getting involved with Ashley Davies a good idea. That I didn't regret it. That I would do it again. That it had been happy and worthwhile- worth the pain.

"I'm sorry." That's always been her defense, her excuse. Like an old splinter that never quite came out it rallied my anger and pain once more.

"Sorry is a cheap word," I countered, quoting an old English teacher, who, for all I know, could have been quoting someone else.

"Then, I'm a poor person." She said simply.

"No you're not, you just like to waste you're money on other stuff." I corrected. "Stuff that's not important. You're just cheap when it comes to other people." Silence was all I got in return. See? Cheap. Don't I deserve some sort of answer? The pause lengthened, both of us not meeting the other's eyes.

"Why haven't you slammed the door in my face?" She asked with the tone of someone just realizing something. _Good question._

"I will." I replied. Slowly I summoned up the strength needed for such an incredible feat.

"You haven't," she commented after amoment. "Why not? Don't you keep telling me to leave?" Her inquiring rose in intensity and slight desperation. "If you hate me so much why don't you slam the door? Why did you open the door in the first place? Do you still lo-"

"Shut up!" I blew up at her, unwilling and unable to hear that final question. "You want to know why I haven't slammed the door in you face, huh? Here's why. I've got some things to say to you too, Ashley Davies. You should just go and disappear back to Europe with Aiden or whoever again. I honestly don't know how you can stand to live with yourself. I don't know how you have the nerve to come here after everything. I don't know how you got pregnant and I don't care because all it means is that you cheated on me and ruined everything. I _do_ know that I never want ever see or hear from you again because I'm moving on and I don't need you."

At last, I flung the door closed, catching a last glimpse of Ashley with tears trickling down her face.

Ashley's PoV

I cried brokenly to my car. I tried. I had to try and she had every right to lash out at me. But for half a moment I had hope. Hope for us in the future, a chance at a new start, maybe a fairy-tale ending.

What's worse than having you're heart crushed?

Getting your hopes up and then getting your heart crushed. You have twice as far to fall.

I can't hate her though. Even if I was allowed to I couldn't. How could I ever hate her for anything? I would have forgiven her for murdering my father. She was my life. She was the Earth, but like the humans that couldn't stop me from destroying her.

I was drowning in guilt and loss. There was no way out. I'd either end up living with Christine or alone for the rest of my life. Relationships of any sort were not for Ashley Davies. I was trapped in the horrors of life. Thelma and Louise had the right idea. Driving off into nothingness, it had to be better than what was here.

What are you living for?


	9. Enemies Closer

**Sorry, I haven't updated. I blame various school essays, friends who call me three times a day, and Clockwords, which is way too addicting a game. I swerz to tell da truf, da whole truf, and nuttin but the truf, as far as you can tell. (If you know where I found that you must be as cat-obsessed as me.**

**If Spencer's point of view is confusing, well, read it again. She's sort of like Zuko from _Avatar: The Last Airbender. _There's a part where he says, "Zuko, you must look ****within yourself to save yourself from your other self. Only then will your true self reveal itself."**

**Also the Dot of Death is supposed to be the opposite of the Circle of Life.**

**I'm making slow but sure progress with the next chapter which promises to be a long one. I might split it up so you get it sooner, but it'd also be shorter.**

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**_Sometimes friends lead you astray. Sometimes you need the people you hate the most. _

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Spencer's PoV

I couldn't decide whether or not to believe Ashley. On one hand she had already proven to be extremely unreliable, but she had proven that when people warn you off someone its a good idea to listen. Then again, it wasn't people this time, it was Ashley, who as I stated, cannot be trusted.

I spent the rest of my day and most of my night debating what Ashley said. Ashley, who was jealous, selfish, and aggravating in her sheer nerve.

Ashley, what am I going to do with you? Part of me still likes to think I know you. That part of me wants to think you were telling the truth. The rest of me doesn't trust that part of me when it comes to you.

In the end I decided to proceed with caution. I wouldn't let Ashley ruin my life, but I'd make certain not to get too attached until I knew about Carmen for sure. _You were pretty sure about Ashley._

I didn't sleep well at all.

At some point I must have dropped my Ashley ponderings and fallen into an anxious sleep, however, because I woke up at 7:25.

"Damn it!"

I leapt out of bed and quickly ran a comb through my hair while giving my teeth a superficial cleaning. Zooming downstairs, I knocked headfirst into Glen. Our skulls cracked loudly. He sprang back and tumbled down the stairs in a broken heap. I recoiled, unable to back up due to the incline behind me and wildly grabbed the railing to balance myself.

"Ow!" We both shouted at the same time. "What the hell Spencer? Why aren't you even dressed yet? I have to drop you off in like five minutes!"

Drat, I wasn't even dressed yet! Leaving Glen cradling his cranium (how's that for alliteration Ms. Sinclair?), I hurtled back into my room and into my closet. When I got back down, backpack in hand, Glen seemed to have recovered though he was still a little irritated. Breakfast was not even considered. With some help from the miraculous powers up above I arrived at my first class half a second before the bell rang.

"Hectic morning?" asked my teacher with amusement.

"Yes." I panted out.

"Well, you made it. Now please, have a seat."

Surviving the rest of my morning, I arrived at lunch in a much better albeit half-asleep and ravenous state. Chelsea had left for a second to buy water, and it was just me and Carmen sitting at the table. Without preamble she sputtered out, "So, do you want to meet me at Chelsea's studio tomorrow night?"

" Um, okay. Why?"

"It's a surprise," she replied sounding relieved that I had accepted.

"What time?" I asked.

"Oh, um... maybe kind of around ...," she fumbled clearly not having a clue.

"She means around seven," Chelsea voice cut in, "because I'll be gone by then and everything will be set up and you guys can have the place to yourselves."

I think I got whiplash spinning around to see Chelsea standing behind me, noticeably, without a water.

"Did you make her do this?" I hissed.

"You two were never going to do anything on your own," Chelsea pointed out matter-of-factly. She had that smug I-know-best look on her face. Furious, I sprang to my feet and stormed off, abandoning my lunch and spilling my milk. I didn't want to date someone who had only asked me out because my friend put them up to it. How was I even supposed to know if Carmen had been remotely interested?

"Spencer!" Chelsea shouted, waddling (pregnant) after me and seeming a little frustrated. I easily outpaced my gravid friend and sped off to the library. There I yanked the first big book a could find off the shelves, plopped huffily into a chair, ignored the startled stares of other students and the librarian, and settled down behind the large book. I began to read the random page I had flipped to.

Apparently, coatimundis are usually found in the Sonoran and Chihuahuan (I don't know) deserts of southwestern Arizona, New Mexico and Texas.

"Hey."

It was Carmen looking down at me and my book. "I didn't know that you were into the desert wildlife of North America."

"It's _so_ fascinating. I read books on this topic all the time." I acerbically informed her.

"Look, I know you think that Chelsea pushed me into this, but seriously, I went to her first. I wasn't sure how to respond that day by the lockers so I asked Chelsea and she said you just had a really bad break up, so I should just try again. And I was worried about getting shot down and what to do so she helped me out with that too. Basically, I asked you out because I wanted to ask you out not because Chelsea made me." Her run-on sentences completed, she paused to draw breath.

"That's nice." I stated eloquently.

Ashley's PoV

I thought the most I would ever cry was on the day my Dad died. For the longest time he was the only one who would even pretend to love me. When he didn't show up I got mad at him, but I also got mad myself. Not for believing he'd come (I was quickly disabused of that notion), but for wanting him to come, and for caring either way when, sometimes, it seemed like I didn't matter to him at all. He was never to be trusted, never always there for me, but he was what I had, and every once in a while he'd try. When he tried I would forgive him for anything.

Ironically, it was the same position Spencer and I had been in. Except I was my father and Spencer was me. Oh and Spencer probably wasn't crying when I didn't show up. She wouldn't forgive me if I saved her life.

All I could do after my trip to Spencer's was curl up on my bed and cry. Cry until my face was sticky with tears. Some people say crying is cleansing. Well, let me tell you, that's bullshit. The more I cried, the worse I felt. Every time I was about to settle down I would shudder with new tears.

I awoke that morning feeling utterly drained. Just beaten and trampled and not able at all to deal with the world. I was sick of trying, thinking and existing. So I just lay there with absolutely nothing on my mind for hours. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do.

Is the dot the opposite of the circle? What is the opposite of a circle? Assuming the dot is the dot is the opposite of a circle, I was in the Dot of Death. I don't feel like seeing, doing, or finding anything right now.

Bang!

That was my door slamming open. Count on my mother to ruin any semblance of peace I had. Isn't she just so reliable that way?

"Ashley Davies," she stated with cold, barely-worth-my-time contempt. She probably didn't even remember my middle name or she would have used it. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you're not lazing about my house like some kind of wastrel." _What's a wastrel?_ "Get a job, and do something useful for once in your life. You may have grown up privileged, but that in no way means you can just suck off my resources like a tick. You're an adult now, and I shouldn't have to support you anymore."

_Support me? Since when has she done anything, but leave me in an empty house with a wad of cash?_

The idea that she could have considered it such a burden to "support me" was ridiculous, and at some point I must have leapt off the bed. We were glaring at each other. As always she was a good few inches higher than me. I snapped. "Support myself like you, you mean? You know fuck some guy until you can get his money then leave? You'd love that wouldn't you, following in mommy's shoes? Is that what you want me to do? 'Cause it's sure as hell all you know how to do. Whatever you seem to think about the matter I am not selling myself to make some money like you."

My tirade had no affect on her. She was completely impervious to just about anything I had to say but could crush me with a glance.

And that was the saddest thing of all.

Long after she had proven that she wouldn't even try to care, I still cared whether or not she cared about me.

"The least you could have done was make yourself useful. You've always been an ungrateful little brat. It was your idea of fun to mess around with other people. You never even tried to live an acceptable lifestyle; just acted like the world was your toy and did whatever you liked. Boys and girls meant nothing to you, even the ones that were deluded enough to think you actually cared. You turned down every attempt I made to help you," she replied irritably.

"Well, I'm sure that a picture of a bunch of arrogant shrinks is right next to the word 'help' in the dictionary," I spat caustically. "Throwing therapists at me for being myself was such a virtuous thing to do. I can't possibly imagine the sacrifices it must have taken."

"If 'being yourself' is how you want to define your ... _preferences_, then you obviously needed some help. You think the stream of whores you brought into the house didn't nearly ruin me? At least most of them left after a night. That blond one latched on like a leech for months. The slu-"

"DON'T YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE!" I bellowed. No one, not my mother, not the devil, not God, was ever allowed to say anything bad about _my_ Spencer. "Don't you ever lump Spencer with them." My voice carried an even stronger intensity at the lower volume.

"Please, Ashley, don't even pretend to be chivalrous. It's like watching a hobo in an Armani suit. You've never cared about anyone, but yourself," she replied dismissively.

"I LOVE HER!" My voice regained it's temper. "What do you know about caring anyways? You've never cared about me or anyone. You're just a gold-digging bitch."

"I'm sure you loved her, as much as I loved that bastard of a rock star. Whether you like it or not you owe me. I didn't have to keep you. I could have left you in the back of your father's tour bus until some policeman took you to a foster home. And let's get something clear about your father: _he_ left _me_. He spent most of our marriage cheating on me and left me for that Baltimore girl's mother." For a moment I saw the slightest possibility of hurt on her face before she continued, "Get a job when I get back from Jamaica or I'm kicking you out."


	10. Sanguinary Stroll Part 1

**It's Chapter 10! I'm surprised that I made it this far. This is the longest chapter yet. Usually I have both points of view in one chapter, but this is only one point of view because it's so long. I didn't want to make you wait. Next chapter will be Ashley's PoV, recap and then some. I am satisfied with the first part and delighted with the second. Tell me if there are any grammar or spelling issues because even though I revised it like 10 times it was longer than usual. I have more ideas than I have time to write and I want to finish this before I start anything new. I still really want to start a new story though. Hmm. Please disregard the above.**

**Happy Thanksgiving (late)!**

**Happy reading!**

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_I look into the dingy little mirror. Reflections give us an opportunity to examine ourselves critically. Whether out of vanity or wisdom. Whether through mirrors or people._

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Spencer's PoV

I told my parents that I was going on a date. Dad as always was his jovial self, managing to make me feel that weird mix of embarrassment and love. Mom was... less enthusiastic.

"I'm going on a date tonight, Mom," I informed her when she got back from work.

"With a boy, honey? That's wonderful!" She squealed excitedly. Seriously. Someone please tell me. Didn't I already come out? For heaven's sake, how deluded can someone get?

"Yes, Mom," I said with mock delight, "He's going to come riding up on a white horse with a golden bridle. He'll sweep in, kiss me, and we'll go off to some foreign castle to live happily ever after. Oh, and have a million babies." She actually believed me for half a second, and her face lit up with glee.

First it was chastity and concentrate on academics. Now it's: Spencer has to have sex with a guy, any guy, and maybe she'll decide she's straight after all.

"Spencer... you know I don't-"

I can't stand that voice she uses sometimes. It makes her the victim. I'd rather have her screaming at me than stonewalling like this. If I lose my temper, well, somehow it becomes my fault because I'm the one who started yelling.

"Yes, Mom, I know you don't like me rubbing my gayness in your face. I just thought you might like to know why I would be out tomorrow night. Sorry to hear you don't care."

I stormed off and successfully avoided my mother for the rest of the day. Dinner was tense at best, but I'd never been more glad for Glen's innate idiocy. The next night came around quickly enough. I was all set to go, but right before I left, a hand fell on my shoulder. It was my mother. I simply looked at her.

"I'm worried about you, Spencer. These people can hurt you. I saw what Ashley did to you. How can you do this again?"

"Is a guy supposed to be less likely to hurt me? You don't just give up on life because you've been hurt. If you do that life wins."

"You're going to get hurt, Spencer..." she sighed. "Don't get pregnant."

All I could do was gape as she walked away.

What's that supposed to mean?

Carmen couldn't get me pregnant so does that mean she's deluding herself again? Or is she trying to make a joke? Was she encouraging me to have sex because all she said was not to get pregnant. I gave up and just pretended to be less confounded than I was.

I arrived at Chelsea's studio with my composure recovered. The room was lit up with candles and there was food on a small table in the center. Not very creative, but still romantic. Then Carmen stepped out, her dark bangs heavy over her forehead.

"Hi."

It was kind of awkward at first. We weren't sure exactly what to say until we finally started talking about family. Turns out that part of Ashley's information was true. Carmen did come from a less privileged family, but that doesn't mean anything. It isn't fair to just associate less money with more violence. Her family was more accepting of her homosexuality than mine were. Her parents were anyways, a couple of brothers and one sister had freaked out. Like Glen though, they had gotten over it eventually. She had eight siblings in all.

Families are usually an easy thing to talk about because it always seems like similar problems are met by everyone, and all the differences are fun to discuss. I always had to be careful with Ashley though. She was always sensitive or sarcastic when the talk came to families.

Dinner was pretty simple: pork chops and salad. My father could have cooked them better, but he can cook anything better. We eventually got to talking about where we came from.

"Sometimes it's kind of lonely and unfamiliar still," I was explaining the culture shock of suddenly moving to LA. "Things were different in Ohio. Things were slower and there wasn't all this rush to get things done and out of the way. Back there we had big family gatherings on Thanksgiving and Christmas so it feels weird without all my cousins and everybody."

"There's always been a lot of people in my family, it doesn't matter where we go because all ten of us come along. I've got too much family so feel free to borrow mine." She said with a laugh.

"What was it like in San Diego?" I'd never been there, but I'd heard nice things about it.

"It was quieter than here, but I'm betting it's a whole lot busier than in Ohio."

We both grinned for a moment, then fell silent.

"Were you born in San Diego?" I asked, breaking the stillness. She blew a breath upwards, causing her bangs to flutter upwards like curtains over a heater.

"No, I was actually born here in LA, but we moved to San Diego when I was a sophomore. We obviously didn't stay there too long."

"Well, then are you glad to be back? Have you seen anyone you used to know?"

"No, not really," she muttered. I didn't know which of one my questions she was answering. Before I could puzzle over it for too long she returned my question. "What about you? Do you like it in LA? Are you glad you moved?"

I mulled it over a little before proceeding carefully, "I don't really like it here. It's fun for a getaway, but after awhile all the glamour wears off and you're just left with a lot of superficial people. I'm glad I came though. Even though my brother died, but there's a lot of people I'm glad I met. I probably wouldn't have realized that I was gay yet if it weren't for... Ashley." I halted at Ashley's name.

"Was she your ex?" Carmen probed gently, "the one that hurt you?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Right, I thought sarcastically. I'd be delighted to relive all my Ashley trauma. Where to start?

"What do you want me to say? That she left me and went to Europe when my brother died or that she came back pregnant?" I replied bitterly.

"I'm sorry, we can talk about something else." She soothed, but I was already on a roll and I couldn't stop.

"She made me feel like I was on top of the world, and then she left, and I didn't even see it coming." My sentences started to run together, the periods blurred by hurt. "I felt it coming though, so I don't know why it was such a big surprise. Everyone was telling me that she was poison, but I kept drinking. That's what happens when you date Ashley Davies. Seriously-"

"What?" Carmen all but sprang to her feet. "Ashley Davies was your ex-girlfriend?"

"Yeah," I replied, slightly alarmed at the sudden change in her behavior from gentle and soothing to contemptuous.

"No wonder you're a mess. All Davies knows how to do is chew up people and spit them out."

"Do you know her?" I asked cautiously. Hatred blazed in Carmen's eyes, and her face and voice were twisted with it.

"We were never friends, but I know that she's some spoiled, rich brat who always gets what she wants," Carmen spat.

"How can you say that about someone you don't really know?"

"Are you seriously defending her?" Carmen looked at me in disbelief. "This is Ashley Davies we're talking about. The biggest slut that walked through King High, and that's saying something. She thinks people should lick the ground she walks on."

"That's not a fair thing to say about someone you've never met. Ashley's nice when you meet her, and she's sensitive. She didn't get dealt the best cards in life-" Carmen laughed derisively over my words.

"Poor, poor Ashley, she must be so deprived in that mansion of hers. She must be lacking so much when mommy drops a couple hundred dollars on her." She taunted scornfully.

"Are you jealous?" I asked, furrowing my brow at Carmen's tone.

"No, I'm not," she spat, "Nobody gets dealt wonderful cards. It doesn't give her the right to be a bitch, just like it doesn't give me the right to-"

She blew out a deep breath and made a deliberate effort to calm down. "I'm sorry I kind of exploded. I just don't get how you can still defend her." I didn't offer an answer because I wasn't sure either. After a period of silence I came up with something to say.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" She nodded, seemingly calmer now. I still had the feeling that she was seething under the surface. We walked to an empty park around the block. I still got a strange feeling whenever I realized that you had to go somewhere special to seen naturally growing grass or trees in L.A. The park had plenty of grass and little paths with sporadic streetlamps along their length. Immediately I started down a path, but I didn't know why until I consciously heard the faint strains of music in the distance. I couldn't hear well enough to know the pitch, but it was definitely there.

After a while I couldn't hear the music anymore, and I walked faster, straining to hear it again. After a while I saw a shape someone was walking out of the darkness towards us. The shape became more definite and my first reaction was fear of some misshapen monster until I realized that it was only somebody holding a large object. The person sidled to the left (their right) to let me and Carmen through the path. The lamplight being right behind them, I could only make out a silhouette. We were only about three feet away when I discerned the person's features. Before I could fully register who it was, she spoke.

"Spencer?" Ashley, of course. We just had to be walking down the same path in the same park on the same night at the same time.

"Hello, Ashley," I greeted in my most civilized, if weary, tone. Her knuckles whitened visibly on the guitar she held despite the blinding mix of dark and light, and her eyes swept across me and Carmen.

"What are you doing here?" I hate when people do that. You know how they ask you a question they already know the answer to, and you have to give an awkward reply?

"I'm on a date." I stated flatly. Ashley's eyes narrowed and her keen brows drew together in contained anger and possibly envy.

"With _her_-" She began but was cut off when Carmen stepped into her space and snarled.

"Yes, with me. And she's a whole lot better off with me than you. I'm not a filthy rich, sniveling baby who cries herself to sleep because," Carmen's tone became mocking, "-horror -mommy and daddy don't love me. They're not here and I'm all alone with my fancy car and swimming pool." Her voice returned to normal, "And I sure as hell don't use that as an excuse to be a bitch and a whore." The two were inches away from each other now. Ashley was livid, and Carmen was sneering. I knew I should intervene, and I tried coughing loudly and clearing my throat but to no avail.

"No, of course you don't," Ashley retorted. "You just use it as an excuse to beat people up." She adopted a whiny voice, "Oh no, I have a horrible life so now I'm going to attack other people because I'm not getting enough love at home."

"Shut the fuck up," Carmen fumed. Her sharp offense made it hard to doubt Ashley's accusations. The argument was getting into dangerous waters. Carmen and Ashley were both stabbing at old sores. I spoke in conciliatory tones.

"Now look, let's all-" I was cut off by Carmen who was spitting fire.

"At least I'm not an unlovable bitch. Didn't daddy want you? Weren't you his favorite little girl? You know, except for all the others?" It was obvious from the grief on Ashley's face that Carmen had struck a decisive blow. She smirked, "Where's daddy now?"

Ashley's father was dead.

It was the work of a few seconds for Ashley rally herself and sheathe her pain in indifference and anger. The process held the heartbreaking ease of long practice.

"Carmen," I reprimanded shortly, "this isn't worth it. It's not right. Let's go." She whirled around but only to shout at me.

"What the fuck is your problem? Do you still love that bitch or something?" She stalked towards me and shoved me into a fire hydrant. Arms flailing, I tumbled over and stared at her, wide-eyed with shock. "Well? Do you?" A sharp pain burst in my ribs when her foot connected with it. Suddenly, Ashley was there, pushing Carmen ineffectively, at least it was physically ineffective. Even if she wasn't doing much to damage Carmen, Ashley took up her attention. Nimbly, she danced out of reach when Carmen turned, swinging.

"Do you even know who your father is?" Ashley jeered. "You've got a lot of nerve calling me a whore when your mother is a prostitute. She isn't much of one either. Not even two of your siblings have the same father." Carmen roared with rage, her fist lashed out and struck Ashley's cheek. While Ashley stumbled and Carmen grabbed her shirt. She began to rain blows on Ashley's body while Ashley struggled to free herself.

"You think your parents are any better? They just have a ton of money and know how to sneak around in the law." This time Carmen's fist connected with Ashley's nose and red blood spurted everywhere.

I rose off the ground and tried to pull Carmen off of Ashley, my heart thumping away in my chest. The two of them were in a full blown fight now. Both were giving it their all, but it was excruciatingly clear who the victor was going to be. I had seen the shape Ashley was in only a couple of days ago; it wasn't much of a battle, more of a beating. I saw Carmen's knee collide with Ashley's already battered face and seized Carmen's shirt trying to pull her back, but I was unable to get a firm grip with the sweat on my hands. Frantically, I attacked her head a futile attempt to stop a charging bull. I took an elbow to my already bruised ribs easily and brushed off a random body part hitting my eye as though it were a mosquito.

CRACK!

Something broke and Ashley cried out. Energy surged through me, and I kicked at the back of Carmen's legs. She went down like a ton of bricks, but pinned Ashley underneath her. Her hands reached for Ashley's throat, and Ashley thrashed violently. My efforts became hysterical: pure adrenaline and fear. Finally, I managed to get Carmen off of her. Before Carmen could punch me, I slapped her hard.

"Are you insane?" I screamed; I couldn't see straight; everything was a blur. I somehow remember Carmen looking from me: wild-eyed and panting with spent frenzy, to Ashley: now alarmingly still and weeping blood onto the pavement, in shock.

Her eyes were distant with loss. There were tears sparkling on her face in the lamplight and she released a guttural sort of sound and ran.

I could only gaze dazedly after her form as she disappeared into the serene darkness.

The guitar lay on the grass by the side of the path where it must have been thrown down in the heat of the moment. I was no guitar expert, but I was fairly certain that it's peggy thingies weren't supposed be broken and there shouldn't be a crack down it's center. I was more concerned about its owner though.

Ashley's face was a mask of blood, and she wasn't moving as far as I could tell. Her hands and arms looked waxy and wasted in the harsh white glare of the lamp. Her shirt was ripped and her neck was beginning to bruise. I more or less collapsed on the ground by her because when I started to kneel all my muscles just gave out.

"Ash?" I asked softly, fearful of her response. Not exactly sure what I was afraid of, but frightened all the same.

There was no answer.


	11. Sanguinary Stroll Part 2

**You are lucky, lucky people. I was on a roll, and I didn't want to do schoolwork so I did this really fast today. There's probably mistakes though so tell me if you catch any. You might hate me for the end. **

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_If you died today, would that be okay?_

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Ashley's PoV

I wasn't worried about my mother kicking me out. I still had my inheritance money so it wasn't much of a threat. I hope she goes to hell though. She was staying in town for a couple of days, and where once that would have delighted me, now my only thought was to get out of the house. If I stayed under the same roof as her any longer I might kill her.

I grabbed my guitar (it was a birthday present from my father) and some money and fled the house unnoticed in late afternoon. There was a park that I used to go to a lot because it was the only green place in the entire goddamn city. Inside there are a lot of paths that barely anyone walks on. I chose one that seemed pretty deserted and set off.

As the evening wound down, and the sky darkened less and less people came. I sat on a bench and strummed my guitar. I didn't play many songs, just picked chords and short melodies. After the harrying days with my mother everything was peaceful in the park. It was getting too dark to see when I decided to return home. The lamps had come on only a few minutes before, but it was a long haul back to my car.

Something about the night air made me feel more alive and free than I had in a long time. I could hear cars from the streets reminding me I was still in the city, but suddenly I felt sort of wild. Cold was never common in LA, but there was a bite in the air tonight. Rather than freezing me up, it emphasized how warm and alive I was. I kept stopping to play little tunes on the guitar, and I sang when I walked. Singing left me breathless and light, and I was so _alive_. My fingers were pleasantly numb, everything was right and I was exhilarated.

And there was someone walking down the path towards me. I couldn't see them very well, and I heard them first. It was two people actually, walking side by side. Suddenly, my elation disappeared, and I felt incurably lonely. I started hugging the right side of the path to let them through.

They were closer. Passing under a streetlamp I tried to make out their faces, but they were still too far away. Then, a sense of familiarity washed over me. It was different than déjà vu, and it took a moment for me to realize why. Even though I couldn't see any features there was something undeniably familiar about one of them: the way she walked, the shape of her body, how her hair swung with her gait. I stopped.

"Spencer?"

"Ashley," she replied with forced calm. It was definitely Spencer, and -yes, Carmen. I hadn't seen Carmen in about two years, but nothing major had changed. The only difference I could see was that her bangs were even heavier.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"I'm on a date." I tried. I had warned her about Carmen. Why didn't she realize that Carmen Madruga is the last person anyone needs to have any type of relationship with? And what did Carmen think she's doing with _my_ Spencer. Spencer deserved better than some crazy psycho. Carmen had tried to burn down the school once. I was far from perfect, but I had to be better than Carmen.

"With _her-_" I began heatedly.

"Yes, with me," Carmen interrupted just as angrily. Inches from me, she snarled, "And she's a whole lot better off with me than you. I'm not a filthy rich, sniveling baby who cries herself to sleep because -horror," she mocked me," mommy and daddy don't love me. They're not here and I'm all alone with my fancy car and swimming pool." Fuck her. What did she know about me and my family? "And I sure as hell don't use that as an excuse to be a bitch and a whore," she finished.

"No, of course you don't, you just use it as an excuse to beat people up," I pointed out ever so reasonably. Then, just to get her back, I whined "oh no, I have a horrible life so now I'm going to attack other people because I'm not getting enough love at home."

"Shut the fuck up," she snapped, her eyebrows lowering until you could actually see them under her ridiculous bangs. I was distracted from my critique of Carmen's features by Spencer's placating voice.

"Now look, let's all-" Carmen cut her off, which annoyed me because that was _Spencer_ she just ignored.

"At least I'm not an unlovable bitch. Didn't daddy want you? Weren't you his favorite little girl? You know, except for all the others? Where's daddy now?" She sniped. I could have killed her. I'd spent too many sleepless nights asking the same questions. Why didn't he tell me? I took a deep breath and tried not to show just how hard that had hit.

Next thing I knew, Carmen was screaming at Spencer and pushing her and kicking her, and I was furious. There was no way that Carmen should ever be allowed to lay a hand on _my_ Spencer, much less hit her. I dropped my guitar and leapt for her. I didn't do much damage, but she turned around anyways and swung at me. I staggered away from the blow and called on all the hallway gossip I'd heard over the years.

"Do you even know who your father is? You've got a lot of nerve calling me a whore when your mother is a prostitute. She isn't much of one either. Not even two of your siblings have the same father." Carmen made some sort of bellowing noise and lashed out again. The blow caught my cheek and threw me off balance. I stumbled and twisted my ankle when my feet traveled from the grass to cement. If it weren't for Carmen's newfound grip on my shirt I would have fallen. As it was I clawed at her hand and kicked her shins, trying to get away.

Her next blow struck my nose directly and blood gushed everywhere. I choked on the nauseating metallic liquid. The pain wasn't as bad as the strange wrongness of being hit in the nose. At that moment I realized that picking a fight with Carmen Madruga was probably the stupidest, not to mention last, decision of my life. It was far from the worst though. If I hadn't gone to Europe with my mother none of this would have happened anyways.

Where was Spencer? She ran, right? No, she's still here. What in the world is she doing? She needs to run! I redoubled my efforts to escape Carmen's grasp, but it was like hitting a brick wall. I sucked in breaths as best as I could through the blood and blows to my stomach. Dying couldn't be that bad, but as long as Spencer was here I was going to fight it out. I tore at Carmen's face. My nails had been neglected since my European adventure, and they slid easily into the flesh, leaving rivulets of blood. In retaliation she bashed my ribs and I think one broke. I strangled a cry of pain through the blood. Spencer was screaming, but I couldn't tell what.

Without warning Carmen falls on top of me. It wasn't much of an improvement because now my hands were trapped beneath her. And then, her hands closed around my throat and I couldn't _breathe_. I jerked and writhed on the ground. Wriggling a hand free, I tugged at her fingers, but I was only getting weaker. Spots were appearing in my vision, and I felt like I was going to explode. My head was both throbbing and light. This wasn't so bad. I was out in the cold air and not some dingy room that the light has never seen. There were worse ways to go. Nobody says bad things about you once you're dead. Even having Carmen on top of me wasn't so horrible. Sure, I wished it was Spencer on top of me, but still, I was _alive_ tonight. I hoped Spencer got away. I couldn't see clearly anymore. I wished I could tell her...

Black.

**...**

**No, Ashley's not dead... or is she?**


	12. Moonlight Shows The Truth Of Things

**Merry Christmas/Other Holiday! **

**I've been drowning in more schoolwork than should ever be allowed. Anyways, this chapter is pretty long. The chapter title comes from _The Last Apprentice_ books.**

**I know you hate me for the last cliffhanger, but come on. How could I resist?**

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_The moon is full tonight. Imagine if it were full every night._

_

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_

Spencer's PoV

"Ash?" I asked louder, more desperately. Why wouldn't she answer me? She couldn't be dead. It was my fault if she was dead.

I heard it: a single rattling breath that sounded terrifyingly difficult to take.

Relief.

She was alive. Everything was okay. Except for all this blood. I thought her nose had stopped bleeding, but the blood was everywhere. What if it was clogging up her ability to breathe? I struggled to still my panic. My mother was a doctor; I should have known these things. I didn't know these things.

Calm down.

Why wasn't she conscious? Did she lose too much blood? Did her head strike the pavement? Was she in a coma? No, she was still struggling after she hit the ground, and it was only her nose right? Even if it was a head wound that shouldn't have been enough blood. Right? What else happened? Carmen was choking her. How long does it take to kill someone like that? Three minutes? Four? Five? I understood people lashing out in anger, striking blindly, but to watch someone dying underneath your hands for five minutes. How does someone do that? Did it even matter? Ashley was alive. She was breathing. I had to get her to the hospital, or something. Where was my cell phone? It had fallen out of my pocket. Where was it now? It was dark and the grass was thick. It could be daylight, and I might not find my cell phone in this grass. Where was Ashley's? Not on her as far as I could tell. I found her car keys and wallet in her back pocket, but that was it. I was leaning over to, but them back into her pocket when a hoarse voice whispered, "Spencer?"

Ashley's eyes had opened, and she watched me intently as I withdrew my hand from her back pocket.

"Trying to feel me up?" She asked with familiar cockiness. I flicked her on the forehead in response.

"Ow!" She cried out indignantly. "I'm injured you know."

"No damage done, then." She sighed huffily, but the effect was ruined when her pouting turned to a flash of pain.

"Are you okay?" I asked, alarmed.

"Yeah, it just hurts to breathe," she replied.

"Do you have your cell phone? We need to get you to the hospital."

"No hospital," she whimpered.

"Are you insane?" Seriously, what was it with people tonight? Was there something in the air? "What if you broke a rib and it's piercing your lung?"

"It's cracked, if it were broken in two it would hurt a lot worse," she answered firmly.

"How do you know that?" I had never heard of Ashley breaking her ribs before.

"I broke them when I was five," she informed me with her eyes closed and breathing deliberate.

"You're still going to the hospital," I reiterated.

"No, I'm not." She sounded like a little kid.

"Yes, you are." So did I.

Ashley clambered laboriously to her feet, and started hobbling away.

"Where do you think you're going?" I asked in disbelief.

"Home!" She called over her shoulder.

"Once again, are you insane? You can't even walk," I pointed out. "How are you going to get home?" Ashley has never thought things through.

"Driving," She replies merrily. It was the most unconvincing merriment I'd ever encountered.

Her ankle, which seemed to be damaged in some way, was slowing her down so it only took a few moments to catch up with her. Having done so, I wrapped one arm around her chest and stooped quickly to scoop her legs out from under her too. _She's way too light_ was the only thought I formed before she shrieked. Immediately, I was holding on to a slippery, flailing fish, except this one had arms, legs, and nails.

"Ashley!" I shouted, managing to collapse on the grass with her on top of me. She almost staggered away, but I caught her sleeve. All I could hear was her ragged breathing as she landed heavily on me. Her sudden weight on my bruised ribs made me wince.

"Please don't, don't," _Ashley?_ "Please, I just want to go home. Spencer's waiting. I need her. Please don't do this again." Ashley was crying on top of me. Quivering while she chanted "don't" over and over again. Loud sobs were broken up by a traumatized voice calling out. "Just let me go home. I have to."

"Ashley, it's me. Calm down." I enveloped my arms around her and tried to still her trembling. In return I got a scream as Ashley lunged out of my arms.

"No! Get away!"

"What's wrong, Ash?" _What's going on?_

Ashley hunched over into a little ball on the grass. I crawled over to her and whispered soothingly, "Ash." I stroked her back with my hand gently, remembering the time I had gone to Ashley's house on the day she'd had her miscarriage. I was so distraught when I found out that she was having a miscarriage that I didn't note how strangely she was behaving that day.

"Lavender's blue, dilly-dilly, lavender's green. When I am king, dilly-dilly, you shall be queen," I sang softly. My mother had sung that song for me countless times when I was little. "Call up your men, dilly-dilly, set them to work. Some to the plow, dilly-dilly, some to the cart," I never knew who or what "dilly-dilly" was, but it never really mattered. "Some to make hay, dilly-dilly, some to cut corn. Whilst you and I, dilly-dilly, keep ourselves warm."

I'd listened to different versions of the song since, most of them too fast or mutilated. Just like the poor "Star-Spangled Banner".

"Spencer?" I heard for the third time that night.

"Yeah?" I murmured as gently as possible, not sure what had happened.

"Don't leave," she answered vulnerably.

"Not a problem," I stated. Suddenly I couldn't take her to the hospital. Why not? I just couldn't. I couldn't stand being left in a waiting room, questioned for details of the fight, and watch strangers poke at her. I couldn't let her out of my sight and not know if she was alright. I couldn't, okay? For better or for worse I wasn't bringing her to the hospital any time soon. I hoped.

Ashley's PoV

I freaked out. When she grabbed me it was like she punched a hole right through my sanity. I couldn't tell if anything was real or not now. A minute ago, I had been convinced that I was back in the dark. Now, I was with Spencer, who hesitated to touch me after my breakdown. My only function was to dazedly react to Spencer's reassuring orders to get on my feet and lean against her. We staggered along for awhile, but I was too drained to focus on the ground in the dark and kept stumbling.

"I'm going to pick you up now," she said. I mumbled something resembling a "yes" tiredly. This time I was too exhausted to panic. I had some recollection of Spencer putting me in my car. Next thing I knew, she was icing my nose and eye while I insisted that she ice her own eye too. She wanted to check my ribcage, but I managed to avoid the examination. I went to bed after I had a dream.

_It was dark and musty again. Except, this time, sterile lights flickered to life. I tried not look at what was scattered around the room. They were everywhere though. Callous steel instruments with sharp edges, reflecting light that hurt my eyes. Their cold shine was odd against the dirt floor. I was naked, shivering in a couple of quilts. The lights were more ominous than the dark. It meant he had come down. _

_Suddenly, cold air slammed into me as the quilts were ripped off, leaving me exposed. A hand gripped tight in my hair and I began to thrash, calling out. A punishing blow to the skull dazed me for a moment while my hands were restrained behind my back and my body thrown to the floor. The next sensation was a hot stinging pain on my cheek. My eyes screw shut with pain and fear._

_"What did I tell you about playing around?" A voice asked with relish._

_"Not unless it's playtime," I whispered._

_I felt another slap, and the voice returned._

_"Speak up, whelp." _

_"Not unless it's playtime," I repeated, forcing myself to be louder._

_"Better," he stated. The approval in his voice prickled, and it goaded me not to comply with his next order. "Open your eyes." My eyes shut tighter than ever. Now the voice was dangerously cool with a slight warning. "Open your eyes," he commanded. I gave no response but to close them more forcefully. Then, I felt a weight and hardness on my legs, and I almost looked to see what was happening. I'm nothing if not stubborn though. "Are you going to open your eyes?" the voice hissed, angry now. I shook my head._

_"I TOLD YOU TO OPEN YOUR EYES!" he bellowed. I screamed as something with the sharpness of a fork plunged into my left breast. My eyes flew open and I twisted wildly. Through tears I saw his satisfaction and the large object that he suddenly shoved into me. I shrieked and tried to wriggle free, but I couldn't move at all._

_"Playtime."_

_I still felt smothered and desperately clawed at anything that my hands reached. There was no way out, nowhere to run, no hope in the world-_

"Ashley!" Now it was Spencer on top of me, trying to still my panicked flailing, and pain flared in my ribcage. I lay there, tangled in sweat, sheets and Spencer. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I replied shortly. _Cold hands delighting in any way they could make me flinch._ "I'm fine."

"Right," she said doubtfully.

"I'm fine," I insisted obstinately._ Unfeeling metal with hard surfaces and sharp edges._

"Sure you are," she replied, frustrated. "You just disappeared to another continent for three months and come back pregnant, anorexic or something, and throwing weird fits. Sounds fine to me."

"I didn't mean to stay for three months," I told her truthfully.

"Then why did you?" she asked. "I needed you." She sounded vulnerable for the first time since I came back. She'd been angry, cold, scared, worried, but never vulnerable. I'd left her. She'd needed me. Nothing could erase that.

"I'm sorry."

"Will you stop saying that?" she's angry again. "What's that do? Why didn't you come back? Why didn't you even call?"

"I got caught up in something."

"Hooked up is more like it," she replies bitterly.

"I didn't-"

"Didn't what? Have sex with anyone? How the hell did you get pregnant then?" I took a deep breath.

"I didn't want to."

She just looked at me. Something in her eyes told me that she had simply given up trying to figure me out. Then it changed. I saw her eyes shift in the moonlight.

She flicked on the light switch. My room was a mess. I'd never been a great organizer in the best of times and it was even worse now. Then I noticed Spencer staring at me. Except she was staring at my abdomen which reminded me how much my ribs hurt. I glanced down to where she was looking.

Shit.

My robe had fallen open sometime during my twisting to reveal a too small T-shirt and too much skin, and I scrambled to close it. Spencer's hands were on mine before I could grab the string.

"Where did you get those, Ashley?" she asked calmly.

"A long time ago," I lied.

"How long ago?"

"Before you met me," I replied without thinking.

"I doubt that," came her dry response. _Smart move, Ash. Tell the girl who's seen you naked on multiple occasions that you've had huge red scars all over your body since before you met her._ "What happened in Europe?" she questioned softly.

"Nothing," I said with my eyes shut.

"Stop lying," she sighed with frustration. "Don't I get some version of what happened in Europe? Don't you owe me, at least, that much?" I didn't say anything, preferring to stew in guilt. A strange sensation began making its way from my ribs up my torso. I opened my eyes to watch Spencer trace a long ridge with her finger, pushing up my shirt as she did so. My shirt inched up until it revealed my mangled left breast. She pulled back in shock. "What happened?" she whispered, but I was already turned away.

"It doesn't matter" I replied shortly and shut off the light. I was so tired. I wanted to sleep and never dream. Just sleep and maybe I could wake somewhere where there was no pressure and nobody hated me or expected me to live up to any standards.

"It matters a lot."

"No it doesn't. It won't change anything." It was the truest thing I'd said in this short conversation. Spilling my guts out wouldn't change anything. There was no point. I couldn't bear to see what Spencer would think if she knew. I couldn't tell her. In truth, I didn't know why telling her scared me so much. Maybe it was because her opinion of me meant everything. Why should I risk all that for nothing?

The past cannot be erased.

Spencer's PoV

Currently, she was crying softly. When I had come into the room Ashley was screaming. Now, I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her how much she'd hurt me, how infuriatingly secretive she was being, how unfair that was, how much I wanted to hurt her, how much she scared me when she wouldn't wake up, how worried she made me with her normally tan skin so pale and ravaged in the moonlight, and how much I detested her for putting me in this position where I couldn't leave without feeling like I'd killed a puppy.

"I love you," was the next thing that left my lips.

With that, I was suddenly free: free to admit that I would love Ashley no matter what; free to let go of the pain; free to talk to Aiden and Kyla; free to properly grieve for Clay; free to take care of Chelsea, with her pregnancy winding down, instead of her taking care of me; free to wrap up the trembling mess in front of me, even though she tensed in fear, and let her tears soak through my shirt and onto my chest, let her fingers cling to my form.

I was sick of being bitter at the world. It took so much out of you to second guess every feeling and every action. I didn't know how Ashley managed to do it all the time. If I couldn't trust my own emotions how could I ask Ashley to trust me with whatever secret she was keeping? Obviously there was some secret. At this point if she would tell me what it was we could get over it just be us again. "We" could be return to life. I'd already been angry long enough. Whatever it was, I was ready to forgive.

When her sobs slowed for a second, I leaned down to her ear and soothed. "Whatever it is it matters. It matters in every aspect of the world except how much I love you. When it comes to that, whatever happened doesn't matter at all. I will always love you."

For a long time, there is only the quiet and the loudness of half-sobs. I sat there and looked at the moon outside the window, acutely aware of her too prominent bones digging into my body. Finally, a shattered voice spoke.

"I love you too." I smiled when I heard those words. The next ones took them away. "You shouldn't love me." I was opening my mouth to list all the reasons I should, but her hands stifled my protests. "It wasn't supposed to end up like this." Ashley's eyes were cloudy, like she was trying to distance herself from this conversation. Then they caught mine, and she was fully here again and terrified. "I didn't want to- I wasn't planning to-" her speech faltered. "He made me. I didn't want to cheat on you. He- he wouldn't let me go." She was shaking again. I tightened my grip on her and pulled her into me until I was cradling her.

"He raped me."

The words dropped into the room, making the moonlight seem like ice. "I'm so sorry, Spencer." She was crying again, exhausted. Shocked, I held her as she cried herself to sleep.

I had thought I couldn't be angry anymore. I was correct because, right now, I wasn't angry.

I was livid.


	13. Flee From The Sun

**This story is wrapping up sooner than I thought. I was going to do a lot more, but then I decided that it would just be a lot of junk that gets in the way of the actual ending. One more chapter to go. (I think.) Surprisingly, I might finish this. That's good because I have half a dozen other things I'd like to start writing about.**

* * *

_Cycles are annoying._

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Spencer's PoV

I woke up exhausted but warm and comfortable in a big bed. Confused, I blinked and stretched. Something shifted in response to my movement. Glancing over, I saw Ashley on the bed next to me and felt my anger from the night before flood back.

More than anything else, it terrified me. I wasn't used to this sort of burning anger. Not even my anger at Ashley for leaving could compare. That anger had been laced with desperation, fear, and pain. This time it was pure anger. I was intolerably outraged that anyone would hurt Ashley that way. It made me want to rip off my skin because there was nothing I could do. If I had a had a gun and Ashley's attacker in the room with me at that moment, I couldn't conceive a scenario where I might hesitate before pulling the trigger. Except maybe that such an end was too kind for him. Everything in the room was hazed by fury. My fingers ground into the sheets and mattress uselessly. Then, my eyes fell on Ashley and a hidden emotion clouded into my rage.

Love.

And if love and anger aren't a lethal combination, I don't know what is.

The more I tried to distance myself, the angrier I became. A hand closed on my arm. It was Ashley groping for me in her sleep. I forced my body back onto the mattress and wrapped my arms around her, tense, until sleep blurred away my anger.

The next time I awoke Ashley was staring at me with wide eyes. She jerked when my eyes opened teetered on the edge of the bed for second before bringing most of the sheets with her to the floor. Her stifled cry of pain had me by her side in moments.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she spat with more hostility than I'd been prepared for. Her entire body seemed to tremble as she clambered to her feet. I could see the individual bones of her calves and feet where they peeked out of her robe. _Tibia, fibula, tarsals, metatarsals, phalanges. _I reached out a hand to steady her, but she pulled away from me and began to walk unsteadily to the hallway.

I grabbed on to her when she nearly fell down the steps.

"Take it easy," I warned her.

"Go away," was her reply.

"And what, let you kill yourself?"

"You obviously want that to happen anyways," she answered in a dismissive tone, refusing to look at me.

"Since when have I ever told you to die?" I said in shock.

"Since the day I got back from Europe." Her words crept through gritted teeth.

"I've said a lot of things, but I _know_ I did not tell you to die."

"Only because you don't care either way." It wasn't fun to see the effect my words had taken on her. I swore to never say things out of nothing but anger anymore.

"Then why didn't I just let Carmen kill you last night?"

"Just leave me alone, okay?"

"I'm sorry, Ash." She smiled without any joy.

"I heard that's a cheap word." I tried not to flinch too much at the stark smile and return of my own words. Her eyes bore into mine and I take the opportunity.

"I don't know what will make it up to you, but whatever it is, I will do it."

"Make what up? You didn't do anything." She was frustrated now. "You didn't decide for anything to happen, you didn't know anything happened".

"I should have found out. I should have realized that something was wrong. I shouldn't have assumed the worst from you. I still shouldn't have said anything given-"

"Given, what?" Her eyes flashed. "If nothing happened then I would have deserved most of it! But something did happen, and you didn't know."

"That doesn't make it okay!" I took a deep breath. "I want to be here for you, Ash. I can't let you deal with this alone. I can't watch you die." Something changed in her eyes, like a realization. I was wondering whether it was good thing or bad thing when she sprang back into her room and locked her door, proving beyond a doubt that it was a bad thing.

"Ashley!"

She didn't respond. I spent about half an hour trying to talk her out of her room. Nothing I did worked. My throat felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper by the time I finally gave up.

With a last reserve of volume I hoarsely called out.

"I love you."

"Spencer?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded confused. Not that I blamed her at all.

"Hey... Kyla," was my forced response.

"Um... what's up?" She asked stiltedly.

"Can you meet me somewhere soon? I need to talk to you about Ashley." I rushed out.

"Uh... yeah. Do you need a ride?" Glancing up, I remembered that I was leaning against the wall of Ashley's house with no way home.

"Yeah, that would be good."

"Where are you?"

"Ashley's" There was a pause before she continued.

"Okay, I'm on my way."

She was horrified.

"That's why she's been so weird? Wait- what actually happened?" Kyla's eyes were huge, but we almost hit a truck since she wasn't using them to watch the road.

"I don't know. She wouldn't talk to me, that's why I got you."

Suddenly, we were doing a bloodcurdling and very illegal U-turn in the middle of the road. Did I mention that this was LA? Well, maybe partly because it was LA, we managed to get back to Ashley's mansion without getting stopped by the police. Frazzled as I was by earlier events, I still sprinted up the empty driveway and was met by a locked front door. Luckily, Kyla had kept her key, and I bounced impatiently while she fumbled it into the hole.

"Ashley!" My throat protested against my screaming, but I ignored it. We raced up the stairs to Ashley's bedroom. The door was open, and the room was a mess. Surprised and panting, we stumbled in and looked around. I picked a piece of paper on the bed.

_No._

_You can't do this, Ashley. Not again._

"What's wrong, Spencer?"

_No. Not now. Not today. I was too late. Didn't do enough. Didn't care enough._

"No." I couldn't stop my face from twisting into sobs._ Why couldn't you stay, Ashley?_

"What's wrong?"

My fingers crumpled the page.

_No._

"WHY DO YOU ALWAYS RUN AWAY!"

I threw the ball of paper at Kyla. She could read it. She could take whatever empty comfort was written there. She could keep it under her pillow and cry herself to sleep every night. All I needed to read were the first few sentences written in her handwriting.

_Good-bye Spencer. I have to go away._

Third-Person

Somewhere, Flight 3468 for Covington, Kentucky was rising into the air.

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**I just realized that some people might think Ashley killed herself. I'd like to clarify that she flew off to Covington, Kentucky, but Spencer doesn't know where she went.**


	14. Epilogue

**It's done.**

**I'm sorry if this ending is very abrupt, but I didn't want to drag this through the dirt for no reason. I'm not very good at sticking with stories and I really wanted to end this. Also, I suspect that my writing was a little disjointed in this piece because I'd write a chapter and then post it. As a result the chapters might not have flowed together as well as they did in my head. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and pointing out all the loose ends left in this story. I'm hoping my next one will be better.**

Ashley's PoV

_My cell phone is ringing._

_I let it._

_After it stops, I restrain myself for a whole ten minutes before digging it out and checking my voicemail. It's from Spencer, of course, because it always is. _

_"Hey, Ash. Guess what? Chelsea's pregnant again. I should feel upset though, shouldn't I? I mean, she was my brother's girlfriend, and now she's going to marry someone else. It all feels so long ago, doesn't it? For all we Chelsea and Clay might not have worked out in the long run. _

_"Kyla's coming over here for my birthday. I wish you would too. I get that you probably don't want to talk to me. It's been 3 years of me leaving these crazy messages and I haven't heard anything back. Guess I'm no good at taking a hint. Though really Ash, stop sending me these packages. I can't take a diamond again. I hope you haven't spent your entire trust fund already._

_"Is it wrong that I can look back on three years ago and smile? We were a bunch of idiots and there's a lot of stuff that just went wrong. Clay's dead, who knows what happened to Aiden, Glen ended up joining the army, and you're- you're gone." Her voice cracks slightly. "God, Ash. I don't want to find out that you've driven off a cliff because you were following the GPS and not the road. Just... call me back for once. For all I know it might not even be you who keeps sending me a diamond on my birthday. Don't do it this time. _

_"Sometimes I wish I had tried a lot harder to find you. Kyla wanted to hire a private investigator and everything. But I told you that already. I don't think we could have worked this out 3 years ago though. There was too much pain, too many stupid things said, and too many mistakes. Right now, it's enough to think that you're listening to me babble. Love you, bye."_

_I haven't gotten a new cell phone in 3 years. For the last 3 years I've been holed up in Covington, Kentucky. Talk about random._

_That day, I was so exhausted that I had no energy left to argue. Not enough to push Spencer away. Not enough to scream. It wasn't until I realized exactly what had happened that really woke up._

_Spencer knew. Spencer would tell Kyla. Before I knew it, everyone would know and want to "help" me. That was ultimately why left. Maybe if I had stayed, Spencer and I would have fought, made up, and gotten through things together. Or maybe we would have only hurt each other more. What matters that I left. The Ashley Davies mentality winning out over anything else. I went to the airport with only a suitcase, my wallet, and a slip of paper with Kyla's address that I had found on the floor of my bedroom. The earliest leaving plane was for Covington, Kentucky, so I took it._

_I didn't even know where Kentucky was._

_I think I heard Spencer and Kyla shouting my name once I got through security, but no one can go past checkpoint without a ticket._

_Kentucky was just strange. I now fully understand what Spencer must have felt when she moved to LA, except reversed. _

_I nearly killed myself a few days after landing. Finally, I checked my voicemail and listened to the flood of messages Spencer had left me. At first, they were angry. Then, she was crying and apologizing. It made me hesitate. I put the pills back into the bottle. _

_She was calling every night. I never picked up, but immediately afterwards, I would listen to whatever message that she'd left. Bit by bit my mind was slipping back to the bottle. Kyla gave up calling after a month, but Spencer kept calling. If not every night, then at least once a week. _

_Time and an annoyingly helpful psychiatrist can work wonders. Slowly, Spencer's messages became calmer and more soothing. Sometimes she still called when something was wrong and she'd cry and talk, but when she talked about prom, that summer, and the months that followed with less hurt and more thoughtfulness. It began to reflect in me too. Carmen, apparently, came back trying to make up for what happened in the park. Spencer wanted her to go talk to someone about anger management. When I first learned about Carmen was anywhere near Spencer, I almost hopped on the next plane back to LA. What would I do once I got back though? I forced myself to turn around again. i haven't heard anything else about about her so I'll assume that Carmen is long gone._

_Angry red scars fade over time. So does anger. _

_For Spencer's eighteenth birthday, i sent her a diamond necklace with the year engraved on the back of the jewel. I proceeded to do the same for her nineteenth and twentieth, using Kyla's address as the return address._

_Over the years, I've picked over the events of long ago so many times that I am thoroughly tired of thinking about them. They still haunt my dreams and flash before my eyes, but life is more than dreams and flashbacks. You want to know what happened in Europe? My mother more or less sold me to some creep, and I spent the summer in his basement. That's all I have to say._

_I've been working at guitar. Really working at guitar. In LA, the guitar was just something I did because I was Raife Davies daughter. Now I practice every single day. More shockingly, I'm working as a waitress. My ever-so-helpful psychiatrist thought it would be good idea to get a job._

_However, I was so bored after a while. There was no longer much of a reason for me to commit suicide, but I had no point in life. I had to find Spencer. Admittedly, it wasn't much of a search. She'd kept me updated in her messages, and I had been basically stalking her Facebook page. When Chelsea went to a French art school, Spencer decided to go there too. France, not art school._

_Of course, Covington didn't have a direct flight to Aix-en-Provence, so first I got a flight to Boston's Logan Airport and left for Aix-en-Provence from there. On the plane I was trying desperately not to think about how my last trip to France ended. _

_All of which leaves me to now. Here I am standing in front of what I hope is Spencer Carlin's door, somewhere in southern France. I shut my phone off and knock. Something French is shouted in response. _

_Did I get the wrong address? What if Spencer isn't living here anymore. How the hell am I supposed to explain myself in French?_

_"Ashley!"_

_I think I'm smiling. I might be saying something. Perhaps I'm a two-foot tall elephant in Iceland._

_All I know is that Spencer Carlin is hugging me and crushing my ribcage._

_That's all that matters now._

_Prom is stupid._

**Personally, I hate this chapter. I'm probably too eager to finish this story. On the other hand, I'm just as eager to start other stories. Here's a list of ideas, tell me which you like.**

**1. _Spencer and Aiden- Wait, Where's Ashley?_**

**Spencer is Juliet and Aiden is Romeo, but where is Ashley? Can Ashley win over Spencer and prevent the tragdey of Spencer and Aiden? (Romeo annoyed me in the play, so here's my revenge.)**

**2. _Eating Worms_**

**Ashley has a broken past when she meets Spencer Carlin. She's shocked when Spencer accepts her invitation for a date, but is Spencer just out to break Ashley's heart? (Convoluted, will hopefully make more sense if I write the entire story)**

**3_. An Interesting Life_**

**Science-fiction-y. Spencer lives in a world where people are owned, bred, designed, raised, trained, bought, sold and used as entertainment****in gladiator-type fights. What are the consequences when normal Spencer jumps into the fighting ring to seem more interesting.**

**4. _Wild Child_**

**Spencer's always wanted to be a scientist like her parents. Then, she met Ashley, a girl who has been raised by another species. When she falls in love with Ashley, what lengths will Spencer go to in order to protect Ashley from her parents?**

**5. _Runt of the Litter_**

**What chance does an eplileptic, delayed Ashley have for Spencer Carlin's heart when most of her perfect siblings are after it too?**


End file.
